I’ll be indescribably relieved when the current round of election blather and the funnel cloud of issues that travels with it is no longer flooding my newsfeeds nor oozing from each and every post in the social media sphere in which I am, as a pastor and author, often required to dwell.

I’m tired of the candidates and just want them all to disappear. And I’m not alone in this.

It was Cal Thomas who noted the commonality dwelling at the heart of the concern: “One of the reasons people hate politics is that truth is rarely a politician’s objective. Election and power are.”

But I suppose I should be clear – I do not “hate” politics, and I actually do believe that there are certain political leaders seeking truth. I happen to know a few of them – Senators Patrick Colbeck and Joe Hune, as well as Representative Lana Theis for starters – but I would venture to guess that Thomas’ comment is true for so many of the populace because while they want truth, and they want leaders seeking after it, they themselves don’t actually know what truth is. Many in the electorate appear to have lost sight of it in the fog of radical individualism.

Everything is now subjective. Nothing is absolute except that which you choose. The new canon is that your way is just as valuable as another’s, even if your way is a complete retooling of all that forms the fabric of logic and tangible reality, and it is your right to press such an agenda with the intention of force-fitting entire social orders into your renovation.

Both conservatives and liberals do this, and if this becomes basic to understanding a citizen’s fundamental human rights, and we understand this nation’s founding documents to be an exegesis of those rights, then those same documents are, in many ways, useless to those seeking truth – whether or not they actually know what it is.

The right to “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness” no longer has an objective point of origin. What is “life” exactly? Nobody knows for sure. Whatever you want it to be, I guess. What is “liberty”? Well, perhaps it’s the muscle used to press forward your definition of “life” even as it may axiomatically shape the contours of existence for others beside you. Again, who knows what to do with this? And so, what then is “happiness”? Again, I don’t know. Maybe you choose a life apart from the binding hindrance of wife and child. You are at liberty to pursue happiness beyond them, yes?

The darkest hearts of man are afforded legitimate rights in a world void of the acceptance of objective truth.

I can’t imagine the endpoint to this. Well, actually, history proves that unless actual truth intervenes and recalibrates the community, there is no endpoint except societal undoneness.

Unfortunately, I don’t have an answer for any of this, except maybe to sip whisky. Oh, yeah, and to get involved – that is, to stand up and say something. I do my best to be aware and to engage in the discussion. On the lighter side, I will admit that once, just for fun, I took a chance and sent a tweet to the President asking if he would be interested in a “whisky summit” so that we could discuss current issues, but I never heard back from him.

You should know that because he’s one of the politicians I’m hoping to see evaporate soon, if he does accept and then decide to stop by for a visit, I won’t be pouring anything superb into his glass. I’m thinking I’d give him something that’s more or less adequate and by no means exceptional.

For starters, the Tullamore D.E.W. 10-year-old edition seems fitting.

There’s a slight hint of vinegar and fruit in the nose, somewhat reminiscent of cherry sours. A littler further in, there’s a sweetness suggesting Lifesavers candy.

The palate is, well, boring. There’s not much to discern except maybe a little bit of wood spice and a briny malt that drops an unreasonable aftertaste in what is a shorter than expected finish.

I wish I could tell you more, but as I said, this is an adequate bottle of booze. Thankfully I own it, because if the doorbell rings and it turns out to be the President standing at my front door, I’ll already be prepared to serve him up with something that meets the occasion and my level of exuberance toward his efforts.