The Rise of Pharmatopia

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By Phil Rockstroh (about the author) Page 2 of 2 page(s)

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If the aggrieved dead from Wounded Knee to Fallujah were to rise before us -- joining with the risen ranks of coal miners, share croppers, migrant farm workers, et al. (all of whom were as good as murdered by having their bodies broken by inhuman labor), as well as the countless multitudes whose lives were cut short by de facto slave labor practices from Gilded Age Robber Baron capitalism, right up to the ascendancy and dominance of global "free market" post-liberal economics -- their sheer numbers would stagger us.

Although, because at present, given that our mode d'Ãªtre is, if you can't bomb them into submission, then medicate them into silence -- I suspect our response would be to offer the restless dead a prescription of Prozac.

But the dead would have no need to speak to us. For deep down we Americans already know: The dead are most eloquent in their silence, because we are so clumsy in our casuistry.

The ancient Greeks believed there existed a class of entities, known as The Furies, who spoke for the voiceless dead. The Furies are reputed to have razor-sharp teeth, hair that seethed with poison snakes -- and they are said to hold those who bear false witness, as well as those who commit crimes that go unpunished, in particular contempt. It would seem that we Americans -- and the political and media classes who reflect our murderous ignorance, hubris, and corruption -- have blundered into double-jeopardy territory here.

I have this reoccurring fantasy of The Furies showing up on C-Span. The following is a partial transcript of their testimony before a joint session of congress:

You people in official Washington are taking mind-numbing meds, when you should be given truth serum. At the very least, you should just try to get honestly drunk -- just crack open a pint of Irish whiskey -- then rage with antagonistic truths like a Eugene O'Neal protagonist.
What's with all these wimpy, half-measures? Why not seek a truly bold
high: How about stripping naked, concocting an angel dust/Zima high-colonic enema, and then administering it to yourself as you hang-glide off the Washington Monument?

At least, this insane and reckless act would be an honest, outward expression of your insane and reckless policies and their consequences.
Policies that have caused soaring deficits and environmental destruction for the sake of short-term profits; plus a spree of mindless, military adventurism that has drained the nation of blood and resources and is responsible for the unnecessary deaths of tens of thousands. Moreover, like the flight of a hang glider, piloted by a junky on an angel dust/Zima enema bender, you will rain shit upon anything in your path, before the whole craven and demented undertaking comes crashing down to earth.

Phil Rockstroh, a self-described, auto-didactic, gasbag monologist, is a poet, lyricist and philosopher bard living in New York City. He maybe contacted at: philangie2000@yahoo.com

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http://www.philrockstroh.com/

Phil Rockstroh, a self-described, auto-didactic, gasbag monologist, is a poet, lyricist and philosopher bard living in New York City. He may be contacted at:
phil@philrockstroh.com Visit more...)

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