Blue Man

It isn’t that he’s black. How idiotic. It’s that he’s blue. Black has it’s problems, as in not being able to have an independent political or social thought, outside of the 95% mark, that is. You know, on the Democrat plantation? Oh, sorry, does that sound racist? It just seems like a statistic, to me. But sorry. Anyways, the problem isn’t identity politics. It’s particular politics. Blue politics. The issues, the specific issues.

Blue is the color of abortion. You’d think it would be red, but perhaps the cyanosis is more salient than the sanguinary dismemberment. And blue is gay marriage. You know, marriage between one penis and one anus? What offspring might we expect from such a union? — something highly abortable, no doubt. And blue is high taxes, with the “revenues” being wasted, or worse, used to underwrite indolence and dependence, and their consequential despair and envy. And blue is a betrayal of enlightened self-interest, here called “patriotism,” for the pipe-dream imagining of no heaven, no hell, only sky and living for today, no countries, nothing worth striving or sacrificing for, no religion, no possessions.

Now what animal existence would that blue nirvana be like? Even sheep have rams, that fight. Even chickens have roosters. Ants? — they have warriors. Bees have stings. No, the animal kingdom provides no useful analogue — how unnatural it must be. Plants then? What sort of plant would the Blues have us be? Pollen? Too integrated into the exploitative apiary economy. A vast sea of golden wheat, waving in the wind? Too patriotic. A roiling broth of plankton riding the restless tides? Too independent.

Clearly what’s required is an imaginary existence. Unicorns and fairies offer a hopeful model. Perhaps President Obama will outline his evolutionary plan for us in his Inaugural. It won’t have anything like ask not what your country can do for you. What an outlandish idea. It will have a plan to “persuade” us to join him, them, and the world will live as one — a great, single pulsing organism operated from the center of its hive by the great Queen Ethos of Leftism, squeezing out abortable clones as convenience or its opposite dictates, inhibited by no consideration other than the whim of the moment.

The world ends with neither a bang nor a whimper. It ends with a vote. America has chosen to address the economy’s troubles by electing the man who will raise taxes. It’s rebuked Bush by further empowering the left that has already controlled the legislative branch to disastrous effect for two years. It chants “peace and freedom” with the syllables “hope” and “change”, to the tune hacked out by an instrument of Chicago politics.

clinton presided over a silly time. These are not silly times. The enemy mutated under Carter, metastasized under clinton, and now, now, what surgeon have we selected? The one who will cut and run. Most of the world is stupid. America is stupid too. Some huckster with a wagon full of snake oil comes rolling in, and we don’t much mind that it will take all the enamel off our teeth, as long as it turns them white for a few weeks first. Stupid. Here’s my dollar.

But it’s a human problem. Americans are human. Democracy makes bad choices as often as not. It’s the institutions that preserve civilization. Wonder if that’s the fundamental change he’s making proclamation about. The fundamental flaws he’s orated about. We shall see.

It’s not the delight, the revelries in Pandæmonium that rankles. Human beings and their parasites have a need for celebration, and we cannot begrudge the Jacobins their glee at the defeat of their, as it were, bête noire. Indeed, we might understand it from our perspective, unclouded as it is by irrationality. We might in fact fear the malady might mutate — into a new distaff strain of the still virulent but largely contained Bush Derangement Syndrome. Obama Intolerance? Inflamed Barack Syndrome complicated by anal fissures? Hopefully we are of sterner stuff. Someone needs to be.

Despair? Sweet child, if we grow dismayed at every adverse turn of events, we will wander into the fen after wisps and ne’er be heard from again. Of sterner stuff are we made. We survived Carter. That was 30 years ago. We can survive generational catastrophes. The Influenza Pandemic of 1918, the Great Depression, World War II, Carter — we’ll weather this dark night. Self-inflicted wounds should be less harmful, in fact. We’d choose a non-vital spot to inflict the damage, you’d suppose. That’s what I choose to believe.

Now you’ll have to pardon me. I’m going to go read Mein Kampf. The idea being that demagogues work to a pattern.

J

from Jack H.’s blog
http://forgottenprophets.blogspot.com/2008/11/blue-man.html

MechEng5by5 on November 5, 2008 at 11:39 AM