I spent some wasted time this week, thinking I had a need to know the tipping point, when bullshit reportage became so prevalent in the mix of what had been mostly substantiated information, that much of the public decided not to care about its veracity.  The waste being, that it really doesn’t matter…it just happened.  Eager consumers of poppycock, now, far outnumbering those in search of truth, used to be scientifically categorized as dumb fucks.  They were caricaturized as dunce-cap-wearing, goofy-grinning nincompoops, perhaps to be pitied, but way too stupid to be feared.  Then, they got their own fuck-the-facts news network and scads of Right Wing talk show hosts who rallied them to elect mayors, governors, state and federal representatives and a criminally incentivized clown President to champion their collective agenda.  Suddenly, they became scary…very, very scary.  For a while, I, like many others, was certain that some smarty pants would step up to turn the trend around, but the insidiousness of this movement is growing in number and power every day and the cavalry tasked to be riding to the rescue are riding too slowly and seem woefully outflanked, bringing only a list of grievances to a gun fight.  We can’t throw our communal hands up and simply allow the lunatics to run the asylum.  Please, start talking to anyone you know who may feel exhausted by it all to the point of giving up on a political solution.  If the Republicans take control of Congress in the midterms, the consequences will be hellish.  Any of you who have read past an opening sentence of one of my blogs, knows that I only fully embrace my Chicken Littleness when the sky is actually falling.  It is.