Perhaps a more genteel Body where swords* are kept unsharpened to prevent possible injury. Cups** filled just to half in order to prevent spillage. And certainly all wands*** sheathed for the damage they might do! A clever Body Politick where we can protest with conviction that the wind that carries our will in all four directions is at once under our control (the fourth direction of course being anarchists who play with paint while sleeping in their mother's basement). In youth we can bemoan the state of the world and preach its wrongs; in middle age, thank it for its distractions; and in our elder years we shall perfect the art of prattle which has silently suffocated change.
Perhaps the little dolls should be elegantly wrapped in pretty pink bows and propped in a picture window to stream out at us nightly. Naturally some scoundrel would later add the sign: "Here lie the three sides of man's degradation to man."
I would say "Distill, distill, distill!" but I'm afraid the wine has already spoilt. And for that, we all sleep in debasement.