Here there be monsters (socratic) wrote,
Here there be monsters
socratic

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It's still a sick country boys and girls.

It has been brought to my attention that my last post was not entirely logical. This did not surprise me, since it wasn't meant to be logical. I was angry and miserable and frustrated and felt both betrayed by my government and absolutely incapable of doing anything about it. I needed to get those feeling out of me somehow, and eating them away would have been counterproductive, so I wrote with anger and rage until I felt better and I went to sleep. Do I regret it? Of course not, it was a harmless way for me to vent my emotions without incurring any costs. Do I stand by everything I said? Not exactly.

I still think that the political theater from last night was a total abomination and I won't forget it for a long time. Watching Dennis Hastert try to shoehorn the bill through without a vote, like shattering the claims of Federalism was a non-controversial thing to do...I can't describe the feelings except to say that I felt violated and abused through the glass of my television screen. I felt a heavy jackboot come crashing down upon my freedoms and the constitution of the country I love, grinding them into the ground like so much dog shit to be wiped from its black black heel.

Tom Delay's beady little eyes darted around and if I were a religious man I would probably swear that I saw a demon hiding behind them. He knew what he was doing. Hastert looked like a lumbering moronic slug following orders faithfully. Delay looked like a smiling viper contemplating his next meal. As it is I saw nothing but hate and vitriol behind those eyes as he yammered on about respecting life while in the back of his head he chuckled at all the orphans and poor kids who will go without medicine if only he can push through those Medicare cuts. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he was counting campaign contributions or votes.

I still find this bill to be a great violation of the public trust because of what it represents, pure politics at its slimiest. These people have fought tooth and nail to keep health care from millions of people. They fought to make sure people can't buy medications from Canada (that unregulated third world nation). They made sure that the so called prescription benefit deal was a benefit only to the drug companies, sucking up money from a hapless, sick, population and churning out chemical after chemical to keep it docile and well-behaved.

They are on the opposite side of life. They are on the side of suffering and death. They are on the side of the insurance companies who turn down people for life saving operations because they'd rather cancer eat into a young boy's liver than his expenses eat into their bottom lines. They passed a bankruptcy bill to make sure that sick people whose medicine had eaten their savings would not be able to shirk their "responsibilities" to the big multinationals who are just so sad when some poor schmuck gets to cheat them out of their money by going through the wrenching bankruptcy process and admitting that in the eyes of this cold capitalist hell we live in he is a worthless failure. Now even with this admission he will remain in their thrall, required to work his fingers until they bleed or the flesh wears away to bone so that he can throw money at their yapping dogs. They will make sure that he can never have a secure place to live or a moment's comfort or a vacation because they need their money and they WILL not be denied.

This administration cares not one whit about who it kills or hurts. It supports the rape of the environment, it loves when companies pad their bottom lines by dumping mercury into our drinking water. They chuckle at the casualties and try to make sure they can't sue. Wouldn't want some little shit getting money just because her son was killed by illegal toxins. They want the poor to live in slop and mire. They want to watch them squirm and cry and die and die and die. They laugh from their mountain tops and go home to their state dinners and teams of doctors.

Schiavo is just a show. A grimy coat of paint on a mountain of shit. This is the person they choose to sand up for? THIS? THIS shell of a woman? This corpse that breathes and twitches and "smiles" when the crossed neurons tell the corners of her mouth to turn up? It is beyond macabre to make her the poster child for their love of life. They love life when it lies still in a bed and breaths and drinks through a tube. They love life when it can't demand things it doesn't deserve, like freedom of speech or honesty of government or a living wage. They love life when it's weak and in their control, reinforcing their power. They love a woman who is, for all intents and purposes, not much more than broccoli, at least as far as we know. The 2 million niggers in the Sudan? Feeling crying running people? They couldn't be bothered. Let them be butchered, let the swamp run red with their nigger blood, let their black flesh be fed to the gators and their black skin turned into umbrellas and lamps. They are not a beatific little white woman lying still in a bed, THEY DO NOT COUNT.

This is disrespect for life. It is a farce. It is a Roman emperor selecting one man from the masses of unjustly convicted people set for execution and sparing his life, thus proving his benevolence. It's about the lawmakers, nobody else. It's about THEM, those pompous fucks.

They will bring down this country. The fall has begun and there are no breaks. They will crumble our empire to dust and scatter us on the wind. We were once the undisputed leaders of the world, the nation before whom all others trembled. Soon we will be a joke. These men, smirking Bush, scowling Cheney, beady Delay, and fat grinning Hastert will be known as the ones who brought the nation down. They will be remembered as greedy fools who wanted so much they consumed us into oblivion. And those who oppose them? Those of us who stand strong and say "NO! This is NOT the way! This is NOT acceptable?" We will be known as the chorus of enlightened voices that went down with the ship. We will be a million Cassandras all crying out about the sheer OBVIOUSNESS of what comes next and all unheeded.

I do not know what else can be done. Violent revolution? Do we dare hope that this damage can be undone? Do we wait? We have no momentum, people are chattering about the beauty of the emperor's suit while he walks around nude, his flaccid penis hanging like the torn flag of a defeated nation. The darkness drops over their eyes and more and more is lost. Hope is a whispered word we dare not shout because there is no reason for it. To shout hope now would be crying fire in a crowded theater. It would be a putrid lie.

Some of you may be asking how this differs from what I said before? I was wrong about the people who vote for these grotesque lords of horror. They are not all stumbling morons or complicity corrupt. Most of them are thralls. They are slaves to the system and the land of their birth. They are prisoners in Plato's cave who have not seen the light. The chains of capitalism hang heavy on their necks and when they try to look up towards the sun they are jerked sharply downwards, driving them into the mire. They are promised salvation and rewards for their suffering by their priests and prophets, hired liars for the slave masters who use commerce as a weapon. They extend credit as a noose with which these sad creatures can hang themselves and yank the chain every time one of them threatens to have an original thought or look up to the light. "There's no time for contemplation. You have 50 hours of work, and then you MUST go to indoctrination on Sundays, and then there's ballet and hunting and buying and commerce and consume consume consume don't think don't think consume serve obey no questions obey." I pity them. People whose aspirations and quests will never rise higher than the bottom of a bottle or a 2000 year old storybook. I wish that there was a way to wrench them free, to show the light to those who have labored so long in the dark, but they cling to their chains like life itself, like beasts of burden who fear the pain of the cure more than the rot of the disease. Victims one and all.
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