I don’t have an iconic tune to reference my antonymical send up to last week’s post.  Instead, I conducted a very scientific observation of everyone with whom I came in contact over the past week and, contrary to expectation, the frown, the dire visage, the worried look was scarce…very scarce.  I even checked myself in the mirror from time to time, (I hardly ever look in a mirror), and, although it felt like I was deeply, deeply saddened, it was not, as they say, written on my face.  The eyes perhaps?  You know, the windows to the soul?  No…not so much.  Perhaps it’s just not natural for one’s face to reflect concern in that way if you rule out pouty, (I think, a conscious effort to evoke sympathy), or pervasive sadness.

But…frown or no frown, how can any feeling human watch live, (like we self-flagellators), or in recap, the drama unfolding in Kenosha, WI, Brunswick, GA or Charlottesville, VA and not feel the crushing weight of frownable hopelessness for mankind.  In what civilized society can a teenager be given an assault rifle that he is too young to own and be allowed to carry it across state lines to confront and murder protestors that have nothing whatsoever to do with him, and then be found innocent of any wrongdoing?  In what dystopian fantasy land does a heartless murderer who hunted down an unarmed man, blowing him to bits with a shot gun, get to take the stand and la la la about acting in self defense?  And who even needs to hear the other side of the story of the hoard of hate-filled terrorists who brought chaos and death to Charlottesville for some good ol’-tiki torch-burning fun?

Of course, all this has become political.  Somehow, those nothing-to-frown-about people are acting celebratory and the cacophony of the shouting between shoulder angels is deafening.  Although I can’t seem to get the corners of my mouth to actually turn down, (I am able to turn my tongue over and blink each eye independently if that accounts for anything), this makes me frown the most.