Red Room Where the Writers Are

So it appears now that thinking too much is considered a mental illness.  I suppose it had to happen.  There are forces in our society driving us to distraction, quite literally.  The crush of consumer-oriented technobabble does not cease.  It's enough to make you want to say "Fnord."

It has come to this:  most people (considered 'normal') do not, in point of fact, think much at all in the course of the day.  They react to the messages transmitted to them, to the images flashed before their eyes, and do not analyze, do not review the information critically.  Ergo, they are content with their lives. 

 And then there are the rest of us.  The ones who ponder, the ones who look deeper.  We are now pathological. We are at risk for "sudden death" due to our "illness," as the article states.  A perfectly adequate excuse for intervention. The psychological establishment has even settled on an adequately sinister word for our condition: "Rumination."  My hat is off to them; the word choice is perfect; it combines the worst qualities of cows and "Ruination." 

 How long will it be before schools across the country are flagging children for "rumination."  Pulling them aside for counseling.  I can see the parent-teacher conference now:

 "Good evening, mister and misses Jones.  I'm Dora Green, little Billy's fifth-grade teacher.  I need to talk to you about your child's behavior."

"What's wrong? Has he been acting up?  Talking in class?  Gerring in fights?  Stuffing beans up his nose?" 

"I'm sorry to say it's much worse than that.  Billy was caught ruminating the other day." 

"What?!"

"That's right.  It was during the lunch hour, and all the other kids had gone off to play kickball.  I spotted him sitting on a bench under a tree.  At first I thought he was reading, but then I noticed he had no book.  So I approached him and asked him what he was doing.  He said 'just thinking.'  I said, maybe you're watching the clouds in the sky, or watching the ants crawl in the dirt.  But he said, 'actually, I'm pondering the existentialistic metaphor of life.'  Can you believe it?"

"Oh my God!  What can be done?" 

"Don't worry, there is a tried-and-true treatment for his condition.  I've already signed him up.  It involves counseling, a large amount of Ritalin, and at least four hours of television a day."