A farewell to kings...of sorts
When they turn the pages of history
When these days have passed long ago
Will they read of us with sadness,
For the seeds that we let grow?
(Neil Peart: "A Farewell To Kings" A Farewell To Kings)
Yes, my friends, that is the question. When we who are now adult return our chemicals back to our mother, how will the future generations see the times through which we are currently traversing? Will they read of us with sadness for the seeds we have allowed to grow?
Through our own irrational fear, we have allowed ourselves to be hoodwinked into a war being fought only for the sake of oil profits. With oil at one hundred dollars a barrel, is it not plain for anyone with eyes to see that the war is first, last, and always about oil? DUBYA even said as much. And still, we refuse to acknowledge this painful, bitter truth.
This is a seed that we gently nurtured.
To begin with, there was plenty of bullshit coming from DC. We all know bovine fecal matter is THE raw material that becomes nature's favorite fertilizer. The DUBYA administration sure had plenty to hurl about. Must have been why Turdblossom got his nom de plume. Although, rumor has it there are OTHER reasons.
And the seed was sewn in a fertile field. After all, the attacks of 9-11-2001 certainly provided more than enough reason for the reality of, "be afraid. Be very afraid..." I'm sure that the architects of fear that have had a stranglehold on our country for all these many years offer as much praise upon the name of Osama bin Laden as they do derision. I sometimes wonder just how honest and real this supposed derision actually is. What about y'all?
Of course, the seed needed water as well if it were to come to a point where it would grow and flourish. There are a number of people willing to carry water to that growing seed. Need I mention their names?
But, what is even worse than the monsters that carried water to this seed, and still work to support its growth, are the demons that employ those that carry the water, those that supply it, and those that allowed it to happen...namely, us! We all share in the blame for that. Please, allow me to explain.
As a general rule, the French get rather brutally slapped about by American comics, and Americans in general. However, perhaps it's time to learn a lesson or two from our flaky friends from across the Atlantic.
The French people have a government that fears them, not the other way around, like us. The French protest on a fairly regular basis to remind those who presume to rule them where the true power lies: in the people, unlike us. The French have been pretty good at keeping their rulers crapping their knickers since about June 15, 1790, the day after Bastille Day, unlike us.
The French remain ever watchful, ever vigilant of what is going on with their government. When something isn't right, they make no bones about causing hell because of their displeasure. It is clear they care not whether it's Marie Antoinette's head, or someone else's falling from le guillotine. Woe to the government official that really pisses off the French! Hell hath no fury like a Frenchman with a boner against a politician.
So, who is the more fearless nation: France or us? I hate to tell you, but the state of our economy, our country, and our national obsession with security at all costs, we ain't winning any Red Badges of Courage. And yet, it is still popular to poke fun at them. Well, they are the ones laughing their way to free health care and other basic human services.
How about us? Nope. Sorry. Ain't happenin'!
The forty-hour workweek, for which so many unions fought, is all but a passing, amusing antique. Two weeks is the general rule for vacation time after the first year, and some employers are even shrinking that number. We have full medical coverage, as long as the HMO decides it wants to barf up the money it steals, or if you have a personal bank account that will let you pay a million dollars for cancer treatment. We also have maternity leave, daycare, and other basic human services...if you have the money to afford them. Which means working two jobs, eating stress like it's candy, and burning ourselves out long before our time...either that, or you are born with the silver spoon up the ass.