I find it amazing that we insist on cultural realities such as ritual to validate the cosmic us and them. The senate itself resembles the reign of George the Third. Spiritual guide for the aristocracy. All the old, fat men, impotent, bitter, and confused. They’re like the Terminator. They just keep coming back and coming back and coming back. And no technology can stop them because they own it. Now, the aristocracy has convinced the serfe with the complete illusion that we can be one of the,. You cannot be one of them unless you are the. Those are the rules. Those of us on comments are the serfs. Some of us have been subversive and we have nothing but contempt for your pompous. The as the senate rules. What is the importance of the written word and who gets to enforce these rules. At the New York Times, we get to hear from another center that cannot hold. Everyone fills a niche. We can read about radicals as they are perceived by writers. But we can’t hear from radicals themselves because the caste rules say quite clearly that voice is a political instrument and only the Temple Priests get to have one. Which leaves us with comments as long as we tow the party line as to what civility is. How can civility exist even as an idea when we talk to – and not with – those of us who are marginalized in the first place. There is no way in hell that the poor will ever be allowed a voice. Not at the New York Times. Not in the sacred senate. Not anywhere.