The Election Kool-Aid Mustache Test (apologies to Tom Wolfe)

There is an epidemic in our country.  At least it appears to be at first glance. A mysterious skin disorder which manifests itself with discoloration, mostly red or blue, directly above the upper lip and below the nose.  It may seem like a disease.  But it's more like an addiction.

We are drinking the kool-aid, and loving it.

If you read this blog much, you know which flavor I would prefer.  But this post is not about the flavor.  It's about the mindless addiction.

I love Kool-Aid.  It is sweet. It is convenient.  It is cheap. It makes me feel good to drink it.  It has almost  no nutritional value, full of empty calories.  It fills me up, leaving less room for less tasty things like vegetables.  And that frosty dancing pitcher with the smiling face must be a great guy. Too bad he's not real.

When I was young grown-ups would give me Kool-Aid.  It made me feel good.  It made me want to make them happy.  I was more likely to do what they asked, to not cause them any trouble, to behave.  After all, they controlled the Kool-Aid.

There are a lot of flavors of Kool-Aid these days. 

They are all convenient, cheap, full of empty calories and fill us up so there is less room for more nutritional less tasty things, and make us feel good.

Kool-Aid is almost like candy to a kid.  And you know how we all learned to not trust a stranger who comes up and, with a smiling face, offers us candy.  We were taught to run the other way, yelling.  

We were taught that because the stranger offering us candy wasn't interested in making us happy.  He was interested in what he might get from us, or do to us, even if it hurt us.

But the candy was tempting . . . to a child.

But we are not children, though we are acting like it.  We cannot be sustained by sugary-sweet, convenient, cheap offerings of those who mix up the concoctions and hand them out, hoping to make us feel good, to do what they want, to not cause them any trouble.

Growing up is hard.  The healthiest vegetables are an acquired taste (I still have trouble with beets).  Balanced meals take time to prepare.  It takes a lot more work.

And it is hard to grow up and realize that the folks giving us the sweet things may have selfish motives that are not good for us at all.

But the hardest part of all is that  a Kool-Aid mustache is obvious to everyone except the one who wears it.

Unless he takes a good look in the mirror.

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