Byline: Frenzy in the First World
I miss the good old days, when a beautiful woman could launch a thousand
ships. Civilization has been downgraded. Nowadays a cartoon can lob a
thousand Molotov cocktails. Funny, I always thought beauty more volatile than
freedom of speech.
Sides are lined up pointing fingers at each other,
declaring the other is waging war against civilization. So war, the primary
tool of the uncivil, is dialed up.
I try to reason that somehow war
is not an emotional response but I end up arguing with myself. In some ways,
war is the inverse of art, like a human experience welled up, boiled over, mad
with emotion harnessing the intellect of science for subjugation of spirit.
Sanctioned terror.
War freezes the soul, numbs consciousness, shakes
faith and turns reality surreal. Jingoists hoist propaganda, gripping dogma
like trained puppies, prodding the public in Pavlovian manner. "War purifies"
is a routinely mumbled phrase by most totalitarians and implied by some radio
and television hosts (most of which never embarked on one themselves).
Then monsters get loose and science becomes the infidel to all gods
in behalf of none. Taped wires and compromised communications ensure any
credibility gaps stay incredulous.
Our love of god goes beyond
defense. Beyond tear gas. Beyond nuclear winter. Our love of god is so
great that all the gifts of science can be leveraged so that the world will
know how great our love is.
Kids in uniforms dig in. Danger and
drama fills the air, emotional responses hint of things tragic. Hours of
service stack up like so many stock caps on aerosol cans.
Appealing
to the better angel in our nature, I pray for all parties to awaken from their
narcotic decadence and detox off the stench, restore some semblance of
civility and fend off any frenzy in the First World.
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