Tangoing the Tango of the Mad

Dear George,

Put on your dancing shoes and join the Tango of the Mad, a ditzy little dance whose cacophonous racket muffles the screams of a world slipping and sliding into Hell. It’s a patchwork of spastic steps and unbalanced twirls all executed to the discordant notes of a stoned bandoneon player.

There is the amague of the Carter Doctrine which said that, by golly, we’d kick ass to keep that Mideast oil flowing. So we twist and twirl, turn and pirouette to get the oil to feed our military machine so it can procure more oil to enable it to secure the oil it needs to defend the oil it has so it will be able to get even more oil to protect the oil it needs to protect the oil it needs.

This is followed by the media vuelta of the elitist populist shuffle that sheds crocodile tears for the common man to divert attention away from the simple fact that impoverishment is not a byproduct of corporatism, it is its raison d’état. The upward flow of capital is necessary because their ain’t any left! The vault is empty, it’s floor littered with irredeemable IOUs.

The tempo picks up as our elites execute a deft desplazamiento by striking out the “political” in political economy. Yes, George, by removing the economy from the political arena where it would be subject to the whims and wishes of the public, our elite were able to ensconce it in the ivory tower of academia where it became an arcane discipline complete with incomprehensible jargon and meaningless formulas that look really good on paper.

The dance comes to a crashing conclusion with a swift engache as the state and big business copulate on the dance floor to produce the Corporatist State which celebrates its birth by shooting the bandoneon player and burning the dancehall to the ground.

It is a dance that will usher us all into the eternal bliss of oblivion.

Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones