I live in a place where, like GÃ ¼nter Grass, the Russian rockets fall all around me. A place where conventional wisdom and political promises meet the hungry, the unemployed and the homeless. I live in a place that no longer believes in Santa Claus, Zeus, Jesus, Buddha or Rasputin, and one that no longer believes in party ideology because Democrats would be doing something besides pushing for corporate tax breaks. If the Democratic Party refuses to be the Democratic Party, then we must build a new one.
The faithful are becoming more frantic. They want to believe and they want you to believe too, and they get angry and persecute the heretics who refuse to believe in their eternal truth. The heretics have moved on to a higher truth so they ban them from their websites and call them names because they don't have the fire of the faith but the cold of night and the shoes of poverty. The sharp edge of the crusader's sword comes to grips with the dull bitter steel of atheist scorn.
Do you believe in the chairman, the Fuhrer, the dear leader, Big Brother? Do you believe in Tinkerbell?
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