The Third Option

In these crazy times of taking one side or another, digging in, and making the opposition as wrong as you can, by whatever means necessary, it is easy to think either/or, two options, right/wrong, dichotomy.

And yes, I am right there in the trenches, but every once on a while I opt for the nuclear option. Only my choice is not the destructive kind; it's more the crazy kind. When all is lost, it's time to dance the dance of the unreasonable. I have no reasons for or against. I just want to make something beautiful, helpful, and, I hope, fun.

The outfits for this often involve polka dots or some other ridiculousness.

They also don't make financial, rational, or practical sense. They do make emotional sense, sometimes.

Time to give it away, indulge the wild hair, invite a hirsute brute to dinner, dump the routine, pound the drum, mix the scientists with the poets, the Trumpsters with the Berners, march to the swivels of carnival.

When the final roll call is taken, I hope I am caught red-handed jumping the line, between the horns of a dilemma, throwing sand in the eyes of the bull, the one who scared me into thinking I might be right.