The popular throw-out line these past number of years is “you gotta luv”. You’ve got to love this guy or that guy or that gal (though you gotta watch this potential, sexist– read incorrectly genderist– reference to femme-philous guardians) for some reason, usually for something idiotic they said or did.

But I don’t “gotta,” (and often don’t) particularly if they are as Meryl Streep seems to self-reference among the artists of our endangered planet; nor Al Franken who was funny in Trading Places but even funnier in the Senate hearings on Senator Jeff Sessions. Whatever one may think about Senator Sessions and his abilities to function as attorney general it was embarrassing to watch (and sadly listen) to the likes of Senator Franken in his pitifully painful attempt at interrogating Senator Sessions. During one round of questioning he spent almost the entire number of minutes (ten, I think) babbling about some Indian tribes in Minnesota and wondered if Senator Sessions was familiar with Alabama’s own Indian tribes.

Prior to boring everyone with the Senator Sessions’ interrogation Senator Franken had bobbled about the word “deferred” with Senator Grassley. The Senator from Iowa tried to waste no more time than necessary and final gave up, dispatching Senator Franken to his intended prey, Senator Sessions (as far as I know good-old-funny Al hasn’t yet learned the definition of deferred).

I don’t know if repealing the 17th Amendment would make any difference in allowing guys like Franken to become 50 percent representative of a state but he is an example of what can happen when the mob is turned loose to vote.

At least in the more crowded House, strangers and stranger-etts like Shelia Jackson Lee, are more easily obscured by the throng (though Shelia can damn sure make herself obvious-I live across town from her in Houston)

Insofar as artists are concerned, Meryl knows and we don’t–I infer. After all the wonderful world of Hollywood  schmucks claim all that is wise. People who pretend for a living are supposed to know what reality is for the rest of us. Rocky Marciano and Sugar Ray Robinson are not artists but Charlee Sheen and Roman Polanski certainly are. Gee Meryl, why don’t you just embrace happiness in your imaginary world of fantasy and leave reality to those of us who live in the real world of family, work and struggle?

Every time I see one of these bubble-bath-sixty-year old juveniles (male or female or any of the blends) I almost puke when I hear their stultified opinions, often with one of their mutually admiring cohorts at their side, drifting in and out about what wonderful awards have come their way.

Say what you will about democracies and the so-called right to vote, but the above is the kind of tripe that they and it bring. Republics allow for the natural occurrence of such men and women who have seldom studied any history prior to their birth date, preening and posturing with dim thought discharging verbally in an attempt at an intelligent monologue; though the result is nothing more than white noise.

However, they would carry no weight among intelligent keepers of the rule of law who must live with reality.