People are angry. And a little crazy.

Trust me, I know.

As a reporter I've sat in on endless hours of public hearings, tax appeals, tea parties and planning workshops.

They are without question the cornerstone of our democracy, and I'm glad we can join in without fear of arrest or repression.

But I would also like to see a scientific study on why people seem to lose any filter on what they say as soon as they step up to a microphone.

I'll give a few examples. At hearings about a shooting range, folks get off track and rant about their trash service (No offense, guys. It did sound like you had some real problems, there). Acrid insults seem to be the currency at hearings on new developments, where I've heard folks say RV parks are magnets for murderous child molesters, and that developers are waging war against rural homeowners.

There's a little pageantry thrown in, too: Developers and members of the public alike have led their young children to the podium to read a speech the tots allegedly wrote themselves.

My heart goes out to public officials who are expected to accommodate this jungle of interests.

At last now others can experience my frustration, if they ever watch the show Parks and Recreation, an NBC show about a bureaucrat with a small town Parks and Recreation department.

I both groan and chuckle at the accuracy of the show's depiction of public hearings, where complaints have included "I found a sandwich in the park and it didn't have mayonnaise on it!" and "How do you like it?" as a man chucked Frisbees at the board members. In one episode, a corporate CEO even brought in his children and free granola bars to sway public opinion.

I think the show's theme mirrors my own thoughts: How about a little sanity in here?

So I've devised a list of subtle changes we can make to shape up our local democracy a little.

At public hearings:

n People waiting to speak will be armed with Nerf guns. If the person testifying digresses from the matter at hand, listeners are encouraged to pop them in the head with spongy balls.

n Anyone who insinuates that a new development could lead to murder, kidnapping, general public drunkenness or unstoppable conflagrations must back up their claims in a dance-off with the applicant at the back of the room. Music choices are "Who Let the Dogs Out," "Dancing Queen" and "Bad Girls."

n Anyone whose young children testify must buy their kids a Nintendo GameCube. It's a school night, mom and dad, and they're doing this to please you.

n Public officials' votes will be determined by a game of laser tag, instead of formal deliberations.

At tea parties:

n No more comparing Democrats or the president to Hitler. Let's liven things up a bit and try out some Stalin, Mussolini and Barbra Streisand insults.

n Oh, and anyone who compares someone else to a ruthless dictator has to contribute $1 to the "gratuitously mean and distracting insult" jar. Proceeds will go to the one Democrat in the room kicking him/herself for moving to North Idaho.

n If you refer to Rush Limbaugh or Fox News, you must refer to at least one other news source, be it Newsweek, the New York Times, or Time for Kids. Prove to the world that you've done something on your own to understand these issues.

n Tea parties should live up to their name and provide beverages. Preferably alcoholic to help journalists get through the event.

Finally:

n All public meetings must end with everyone lining up for a friendly handshake and an exchange of "Good game," followed by a pizza party where conversation is restricted to romantic comedies and happy childhood memories.

OK. Now that I've vented a little bit, I want to take it all back (except for that last one).

The only thing I'd like to see is more people showing up to every public meeting and hearing available, if only to keep in touch with what's going on.

Even if I don't like what you're saying - or have no clue what you're talking about - you've got every right to take your turn.

Alecia Warren is a staff writer for The Press.