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Minced Realities

Discontinuities. By all means divide, conquer and then rule with an iron fist and a cattle prod. Befuddle the wretched of the earth, tell them one thing and then, in the next breath, tell them its opposite. Then assert (without blushing) that both propositions are self-evident, inalienable truths and that if they don’t “get it. is their fault and what they need is more of the same plus, perhaps, an anti-pessimism vaccine or a happiness pill or CBT. Corrupt the language and destroy the institutions that made life endurable. Persuade the we-the-people that their kin is their foe and them that would be their natural allies are their mortal enemies. And so on, until brother will be unable to recognize sister and mothers their own children and lovers will look upon the face of the beloved and see only the warts and the deviation and the blemishes. And friend will look upon friend and say: Who the fuck are you? At which point they, the baah-baah sheep (both black and white, ewe and ram, mutton and lamb), will fight your battles and win the war for you without you having to move a finger. They will eliminate all the heretics and the divergent. And when they’re done with the aberrant, the fiends, the error 404s, they’ll turn on each other and get rid of the superfluous; you know, the old and the infirm and the less than Hollywood-perfect and all wot don’t consume as prescribed and toe the line. Thus until you have turned the world into mincemeat. Then, and then only, yours will be the Earth and everything that’s in it, And.”which is more.”you’ll be a Man, my son!

Have a nice life.

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Name: Dolores

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