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So much of the diaries of July 8, 2008 spelled out the most gloomy and doomy prospects for the future of the billions of meek under the yoke of a few thousand conspirators. Is it just a coincidence that so much end-of-life-as-we’ve-known-it prose comes a day before the United States Senate votes to murder the 4th amendment?
There’s something happening here.
What it is ain’t exactly clear.
There’s a man with a gun over there,
Telling me, I got to beware.
Stop, children, what’s that sound?
Everybody look what’s going down.
__Buffalo Springfield.
A song from the sixties illustrates that our present is not so different from our past. We protest, but in protest cages unlike the streets of Chicago ’68. Nightsticks opened our heads back then, and today’s tazors and rubber bullets are giving way to monster weapons that shatter our eardrums, boil our skin and nerves and shoo us away like ants under the beam of sunshine through a magnifying glass.
Yet even the KGB knew that the masses needed to be able to vent frustrations, though vainly, by taking to the streets and torching a few vehicles, break a few windows. Limited, controlled anarchy expended the mob’s energy enough to permit the oppressed their pride and self-respect as buffers for the hopelessness that sapped the protest of the will to continue on.
The meek shall inherit the earth when we stop working for those who refuse to share it.
