The Dispossessed

 

'Do you understand,' I cried to him, 'that if you have the guillotine in the foreground of your programme and are so enthusiastic about it too, it's simply because nothing's easier than cutting off heads, and nothing's harder than to have an idea. You are lazy! Your flag is a rag, a helplessness. It's those carts, or, what was it? ... “the rumble of the carts carrying bread to humanity“ being more important than the Sistine Madonna, or, what's the saying? . . . an idiocy in this genre? Don't you understand, don't you understand,' I said to him, 'that unhappiness is just as necessary to man as happiness.'

                   The Possessed. Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

 

Liberals in this country don’t want to change things. They certainly don’t want to make things better. That would make them Rachel Maddow sans Trump. Pointless and ridiculous. And without a job. Liberals want to exploit them. They want to keep them right where they are and preferably on their side of the tracks, thank you. Unless your name is Obama. There is a saying I learned as a kid: If you are not a part of the solution then you are a part of the problem.

The US left died in the 1970's, snuffed out during the economic and political blowback of the 60's and finished off by the plain old hunger of inflation and want. I went to college, got married, had a kid, barely made my mortgage and car payments, went to night school, switched careers a couple of times, joined a church, and just got on with it like everybody else.

I knew for sure that liberalism was a corpse when Jerry Rubin became a stock broker in the 1980's, which also saw the emergence of the zombie pilgrim of Political Correctness. This was nothing more than Pharisaic self-righteousness. It has since uneasily morphed into SJW, BLM, Antifa, Alphabet+, and currently Woke under the circus metric of constant razzle-dazzle, bate-and-switch, and changing the social and cultural objectives while you wait.

If you can't make a difference, well, you can at least make a scene out of yourself.

Here is a mongrel. A mongrel, you say? What is a mongrel? A mongrel is one who comes from the many master races of the past, slurred all together, smashed all to die, left all to bake in the sun. The mongrel is the finger painting of history. Yesterday’s ethnicities. Today’s atrocities. Tomorrow’s master races. That’s you. You are the hope of what comes next.

The Self Righteous Woke want a handy little Black in the Box. Something they can play with and use to make themselves seem superior. Something they can wind up in public once in a while or preach about on stage at a Hollywood award ceremony without actually doing anything. 

When needed it can play a little tune, flip its top, and out pop racist riots in every city. Unless they’re January 6, Occupy Wall Street (remember them?) or des Gilets Jaunes, of course. Those are different. 

Dostoyevsky was right about we, the possessed.