Last night, astride a wafting column of sacred smoke, I meditated on all you have accomplished over the last seven-plus years. At the same time, I contemplated the various dynamics that have made your machinations possible. And as I turned each one over in my meth-befogged brain, one stood out from all the others like the Star of Bethlehem that guided the Wise Men to the manger.
And that shining star, that beacon that has made your administration possible is anxiety.
Power belongs to him who can effective use anxiety as an instrument of social control. Because the proles cannot stand the persuasive non-threats that anxiety feeds on, they seek the stability of escapism. Disneyworld never changes, and that is their succor and comfort.
This same dynamic produces short-term thinking. When the future looks like shit, they stay in the eternal present that lacks both a past and a future. For the anxious, the world shrinks and is reduced to the mantra, “I’ve got mine!” as they try desperately block their ears to the coda that whispers, “…for now.”
Anxiety has a bracing effect on organized religion. In the face of it, the church jettisons God and replaces Him with a pathological need for a dogmatic fortress. This creates the siege mentality in which all that is different is seen as a threat.
Forget the Good Samaritan crap! Everything has changed since Jesus mouthed that fantasy. It’s a new world, with new challenges requiring new answers. In a world threatened by our over-heated imaginations, the only viable response is untrammeled aggression. It is a world that demands torture, not treatment. Our ramparts must be earthen works of violence. We must rain fire upon the earth, purging it of its impurities as we create for our Old Testament Jesus a sanitized world fit for His return.
Keep ‘em off balance, George. Let them have faith in nothing. Strip them of all touchstones of certainty that they might embrace the empty and the vacuous with greater vigor. Let their jobs be swept away; let their children seek meaning with the pierced and the inked in the Holy Temple of the Mall. Let them see in the evening news the many threats, unseen and unreal, that strangle their peace of mind.
Let them taste the truth that ours is a feral economy that does not hesitate to devour their children.