Silver & Blue Bourbon Balls – A bit of Nevada spirit

Spent the day with my mom. We relished yesterday’s meal, drank smoothies, folded laundry, and considered the pending Nevada v. Boise State football game. My folks are big Nevada fans. Best of all, we made Mrs. B’s fabulous bourbon balls. (We doubled the recipe and used what my husband had of some old bourbon. The rest was straight rye.) In the end, I tickled my mom with the fancy toppings in her team colors—silver and blue crystallized sugars. Go Pack!

Zombies, like mixed-metaphors, are horrific and should only be seen in moderation.

Zombie10_newflat

October in Nevada brings change. Weather gets cooler. Leaves turn color. Politics get hotter. Language turns into rhetoric. People turn into zombies. Zombies, like mixed-metaphors, are horrific and should only be seen in moderation.

Zombies are fine on the silver (or the bit-streaming) screen. Zombies are fine on Halloween. It’s the zombies wrapped in political rhetoric that make me scream. In the spirit of the season, I shall demonstrate.

My current offenders are from well-funded bread and circuses and come mixed complete with mudslinging, character assassination, astroturfing and even the sacrificing of the sacred cow.

Whether the political party serves tea, coffee, wine or whisky, I believe Nevadans have traditionally favored the flavor of liberty with a splash of rugged individualism. We understand the dangers of indulging in excess and refrain from spending past our means. We realize liberty comes with a measure of responsibility.

It’s when we indulge in any particular righteous judgment in excess that we start to lose our perspective. Our judgment becomes impaired. We start to turn into zombies.

Not all Nevadans turn into slow-moving, myopic representatives of any particular political party. Most of us imbibe in party politics in moderation.  We tend to stay sober and seek leadership in the individual who will serve our interests as a community the best. This year, however, the trend is to binge and purge.

It’s those people drunk with righteous judgments that scare me the most this year.

Those who refuse to accept diversity in thought, race and religion. Those who refuse to open dialogue without campaigning. Those that stagger out of political parties, who have indulged in excess and wander the world consumed with conversion of the masses.

The scariest of all are those who seemingly trade their humanity for the sponsorship of hope. These people marketing red or blue ring my doorbell. They mail me propaganda. They send robocalls with abandon.  They network with me socially.

Whether battle born or living out of a carpet bag, we need to strip off the ideals of a lame-duck generation and broaden our focus. Then we can stop bumping into walls and tripping over the obvious. Why?

Zombies, like mixed-metaphors, are horrific and should only be seen in moderation.