Spare Tires inside the Schoolbus

Every morning and mid-afternoon, the heavy diesel engines of whole armadas of school buses rumble through this densely populated middle-class neighborhood, passing each other in a rush of officiousness, stopping at various corners, halting all traffic. Children waiting listlessly, some bored parents delivering their small offsprings into the belching machines.

war machines

war machines

Off to apathy, ADHD, obesity.

When has the adult world decided that it is too dumb to create and protect neighborhoods in which children can safely walk from their home to their neighborhood school, stretching a leg, taking in the fresh air, listening to a bird or two, seeing the odd sights that only children seem to catch?

A website on ADHD (“attention deficit hyperactivity disorder”) laconically states “Even small changes in a child’s daily activities can have dramatic long-term results, as long as the activity makes them breathless.” Of course, the school bus engines will leave at least some of the children breathless, but that’s it for the day. After sitting on the bus, herded together like cattle in trucks going to the slaughter house, the children will be taught to sit still through all kinds of mind-pollutants while building spare tires around their midriffs, frequently helped to fatten up with drugs against “ADHD.”

Cured from ADHD

Cured from ADHD

Now there’s a cause worthy of a presidential race: “Save Our Children from School Buses” and all the evils that have given birth to these deadly monsters. Need we say more? We know what we have overwrought,  but it seems that there is no way to escape these rumbling dragons that devour the health of our whole community.

While we’re at it, let’s give thanks to our “community developers,” police in their cruisers, too heavy to walk with the children, our politicians who will gladly quibble about all kinds of nonsense but don’t want to talk about the obvious: many of our communities are not safe for a carefree and healthy lifestyle for our children.

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Religious Communication

If religion has taught us anything it is that we can be most sure to be heard when no one is listening. Indeed, we have a long history of expert interpreters who can tell us what Nobody will listen to, what He will hear, and what only comes across if accompanied with  a substantial donation to Him who has no substance.

Silicon in the Wind

Silicon in the Wind

A Kaiser Foundation study found that young people between 8 and 18 spend over 53 hours per week “consuming media,” which is more than the average working hours of their parents. – For those ancient enough to think of a medium as a psychic earning a living by speaking to the speechless dead, the above finding might bring up images of cannibalism. For those not quite so old, “the medium is the message” may stir up meaningless memorabilia, conjuring up fantasies of teenagers consuming messages as their week’s working contribution to the universe. But these new messages are only about  What’s Up, which goes down the U & I tubes faster than any memory lane could ever recoup.

Why are we so set on communication when we don’t dare say anything? Probably the same reason why the religious principle riders prefers to talk to God-En-Mass, rather than understand the human being even inside themselves. Lots of words, lots of images, lots of  texting, lots of whistling into the digital dark.

Perhaps inane wording is part of the plot of continuing the long-standing religious tradition of fervently talking to no one. What do we think when the Philadelphia Inquirer reported early this month, in a headline, that  ”Romney doesn’t excite Temple”? Did Romney finally decide to bring back the old-time religion of sex, but couldn’t get it off?

Or what road-block was trying to get hitched to the Indian armed forces when the Times of India reported today that “The Indian Navy’s proposed communication station hit a roadblock due to hitches”? Perhaps it is rather like the drunk who is always very clear about one thing: that he is not drunk.

For such clarity we can also turn to the Mercury News which reported last month “Top California GOP official acknowledges ‘communication deficit’ as state convention opens in Burlingame.” What this was probably meant to insinuate is that the GOP is going to try to cut the communication deficit by spending fewer words so that the rich in verbosity can say more on their own. Or perhaps they were just complaining to their god again, and hearing good tidings in response.

Came across two animals the other day: they actually were listening to each other. No political affiliation, no digital media, no money that talks, not even a prayer in heaven. Just communicating…?

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Man of the Cloth

cardinal in full crochet: holy holy

cardinal in full crochet: holy holy

Imagine religion without cloth. What would happen to distinction, extinction of sin, and unctuous wrapping of insignificance in excelsis deo? How else can you tell a cardinal from a taylor but by the fact that the former wears crocheting around his crotch and the latter displays his naked china dolls on it?

One should of course not further inflate the vanity of popes and cardinals by talking about their fashions, in doctrines and dresses. However, the current pope apparently did see red, recently, in his vision of where his mostly childless brethren were heading, and created 22 new cardinals, ex nihilo (out of nothing comes nothing?), and now there is more red around him, thank God. Red, as you remember, is the color of cardinals, communists, and Republican states, in other words the color of orthodoxy and charging (papal) bulls. Displayed through cloth, of course, since apparently Adam and Eve turned red with shame, when they realized what a shameful body their creator had stitched together when he made them, clothlessly.

covering up the creator's finest with fineries

covering up the creator’s finest with fineries

You will notice that the French artist, Gustave Doré, magically introduced cloth into this scene from creation, for the man, even though Eve is just appearing and he had not yet had time to say “darn” to her, so overwhelmed by her absence of distinction that he apparently passed out, while she covered up with figments of imagination.

A good case can be made that if we had not been ashamed of the body given by the gods we would never have known such distinction as being a cardinal. We would have continued to fool around naked, instead of telling the helpless to get naked, by the power invested in us by our vestments.

Yes, yes, hippies and nudist beaches have tried to revive moments of paradise, but even they are codependent to the world in stitches. Off the beach, how can you tell a rebel except by his carefully neglected garments? We protest the power of the cloth only at the real risk of making it all the more powerful. Perhaps clothes like guns don’t kill people, but it seems far less likely that pastoral child abuse, unlimited procreation enforced by de facto not quite castratos, etc., would occur without cloth than generals could kill without guns or uniforms.

How did we get here? How could we have fallen so low that epaulette and décolleté rule the world and masses kneel in awe because a pope made 22 men change their costumes?

In the name of ethics, civilization, and simple human decency, I therefore propose that cloth should be outlawed. Its effects are far more addictive than any illegal drugs, its destructive influence on the human race has been even more outrageous than any religious slogans. It is an affront to any believer who holds that God created our fine bodies: how dare we cover up the work of the Lord?

By the way, does God have a taylor or is he just proud of his body, fiery bush as it may be?

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Sacred: The Will of the People

The Will of the People

The Will of the People

Prompted by George Stephanopoulos of ABC during a Republican debate, Presidential aspirant Mitt Romney declared “I never said I was pro-choice, but my position was effectively pro-choice” And then: “I changed my position.” – The logic is somewhat confused, because, theoretically, if he never was pro-choice, he now would have become pro-choice, while his position now would have become only effectively “pro-life,” as some of such meat eaters like to call themselves. But the more interesting question is why these people do change their positions. Is it the will of the people that is holding drunken sway here?

It has been suggested that quite a number of Democratic politicians, including perhaps Bill Clinton and Obama, may secretly not be as much for the death penalty as they declare to the people, but that they are forced to join the hanging crowd, since the lynch mentality, especially among fundamentally loving Christians, is in full vogue. If you want to capture these Christian hangers-on to the Democratic ticket, you need to get a hang of saying what you don’t believe (proving that you don’t really believe that any god will get you for such expedient lies).

As Advertised

As Advertised

Politicians in a democracy claim, when it suits them, that they have to follow the will of the people. Bush II, of course, was doing the Will of God when he ineloquently fudged Sundays and much of the rest of the week, but he also listened, one hears, to what his political strategists whispered in his right-leaning ear. No problem: this is after all a Christian nation and therefore the Will of God can best be read in the tea leaves of the Will of the People.

Thank the Lord, there are two enormous tax deductions to be had from playing with (not to) the will of the people: advertising and the church. The justification is obvious: the people do not know what is good for them and therefore we need to heavily subsidize those who change the will of the people, from misguided or vacuous, to God’s Will of the People. After such billion dollar investments in the Will of God, it is only reasonable to comply with the will of the people, which (at least after such enormous tax deductions and suggestive benedictions) should now be held Sacred. What’s a poor politician to do but to change his or her position, after the spoken-to-people have spoken?

It is then only marginally of interest that fertilized eggs and fetuses are also sacred. They do not have any expressed will-to-choice yet, sacredly are still to be fertilized with the compost of advertising and religion. Blessed are the vacant in spirit for they shall inherit the winds of innocent political digestive tracts, filled with the meat of processed and canned simulations.

A woman with a will of her own is clearly anti-democracy. If she were pro-democracy, she would be pro-advertising and pro-religion,  and so pure indeed that there would be no difference between her vacancy of will and that of a fertilized egg, fertilized with the will of the Sperm of whom millions shall die for the good of the nation, so that one shall live to be fertilized by benedictions and ads.

Could we conceivably look for politicians, once again, who have a mind of their own, unlike sperm-plus-egg? How can we join in a democracy when there is no real difference between human minds and primitive collections of biological building blocks?

In order to truly respect the will of the egg above that of the woman and/or the human mind, we really should now work on special methods of communication to fertilized eggs, so that they can get a pre-human version of slogans, jingles, and sermons, messages so primitive that even the mindless can mind them. - No, it would not have to be two-way twittering; after all, we do know what is good for the fetus: it should not have a mind of its own if it wants our full respect.

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Anticipatory Nostalgia

bitter sweet memories or kitsch?

bitter sweet memories?

We can look forward to no longer being where we have not even arrived. A good reason not to go there.

and what if I will like it in the closet?

and what if I will like it in the closet?

 

 

 

If the Greeks imagined the underworld river Lethe as washing us clean of all memories, we can wallow in the waters of soul-wrenching loss in romantic agony when faced with the mere possibility of a beautiful or exciting encounter.

Better not sing to me, grey nightingale! What if your song touched my tender sensibilities?

tears that bind

tears that bind

Better not let me help you, suffering stranger! What if I became attached to helping others?

We’d better stick with the fact that this is a tough world and then trust in the shallow waters of forgetfulness of what we have done. Another form of romanticism in this: finally fainting into a blackout, somewhere in the underground holy waters for the righteous, the highly competitive.

After all, those are the only two choices, face the possibility of eternal nostalgia or make sure that we will be glad to forget who we were.

(Never mind the delighted anticipation of the child too excited about today to worry, too young to be addicted to dark pangs of nostalgia or wishing for the guilty grace of forgetting.)

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Scrambled Angels

My Guardian Angel

My Guardian Angel

The following thoughts are quite unclear, but my hand was guided by my confusing Guardian Angel:

As the stomach turns, watching the reality show of current world affairs, some people seem fascinated again by the possibility of angels, looming in the woodworks of old houses or at the loom of the fabric of life, spinning out of control.

We accept that neither politicians, nor party leaders of all colors, nor market bosses are angels. After all, being selfish is the source of all goodness in our “highly competitive, rapidly changing world.” Even for those who congregate at halls of the new Apple religion, to get their latest big Mac served on a pad, it is clear that their new god, Tim Cook, had to grease his own palms with an annual salary of $378 million for the year 2011, in order to preach the gospel of I-whatever… And while the Pope ordains in his ornate garments that consumerism is against the interests of Catholic salvation, his Vatican Bank is trying to whitewash itself of accusations of money laundering, with assets supposedly in the billions of dollars.

So we look perhaps at some midlevel management types of goodness: angels. Now, it has to be admitted that, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, the verb “to angel” refers to “financing or backing an enterprise.” But then this surely is blasphemous slang, unless the financiers of the long and the shorts of sales are to be seen as the true angels of our economy. Can you even imagine anymore a world without “financing or backing of enterprises?” It surely would be pure hell, if hell is ever pure.

But what about these angels? In the biblical traditions, many as they are, angels are men. It is only a modern form of praise to say to an energetic male “you are such a devil!”

Or is it? Lucifer, one of the many forms of the devil, was an angel, a fallen one, overcome by the laws of gravity in heaven, apparently. To add to the confusion, “lucifer” comes from the Latin “lūcifer adj., light-bringing; used as proper name of the morning star, Venus.” But Venus is no angel, lusty female goddess that she is. And how can the devil be light-bringing, when he is the prince of darkness?

Four Angels

The only way out of this is to acknowledge that true angels are women and true women are angels. As Romeo exclaims hopefully to Juliette:
O, speak again bright Angel: For thou art as glorious
as is a winged messenger of heaven…”
- so we usually mean a woman when we say “you are such an angel.” And most people that I have asked about their guardian angel sooner or later admit that she has a rather female personality. Yes, religious authorities can protest that angels are without gender, sexless, etc., but does that not substantiate the fact that they must be good women?

New translations do not even put an angel anymore at the gates of Eden, it is just a flaming sword, a hot waving member protecting the tree of life from the not-so-innocent.

There apparently is only one reference to female beings with wings in the Bible and that refers to two women who have wings like a stork, who between them carry of a lead-lidded container in which sits a woman “The woman’s name is Wickedness” – all this being pointed out be a true angel, in Zechariah 5:5-9.

Where then can we look for angels to guide us, protect us against male Lucifers, lusty swords, god-created princes of darkness who are too complex to be the mere product of natural selection?

It has taken us a long time to mature from male angels to female angels. Perhaps our world of economic machismo will slowly mature enough to be guided by good women without wings, Margaret Thatcher, Michele Bachman, et al. not to the contrary?

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The Multiverse and the Ideal Me

Sometimes we can forget that much of our best efforts have been about trying to find ideal attitudes within ourselves, toward fellow human beings. A case could be made, that we can be surprised by our own inner potential, but that we usually are too embarrassed to direct our most intense energies toward  ”mere” fellow human beings.

Clearly, human history is full of demonstrations of an enormous potential for devotion, for fervent adoration, for a willingness to give our all and lay our best at the feet of … someone. Kings, emperors, popes, imams, priests, rabbis, commanders, teachers, flags, lovers, and children have had to serve as surrogates. Yet, we knew all too often that we had to turn a blind eye to the man or woman and focus on the symbol, the office, or the image in our own heart.

Gods, at least some of them, are much better: one can link yearnings in our hearts and minds with whatever qualities would be the perfect match – and there we are: our inner potential finally meets an outer image. Instead of having faith in the perfection of another human being’s qualifications, we can fully trust the qualifications of the god, having to have faith merely in his or her existence.

Ideal humanity is much more easily disproved than the existence of an otherwise ideal being, where the certainty we seek is to be found in our own fervor. As romantic lovers know all too well: the object of our devotion is actually far less crucial than our rapture, since it is our inner perfection we strive for when we love, not that of another being.

In this sense, we may want to return to religious ecstasy and loving devotion as the exercise grounds for how we may wish to relate to each other – if only we keep in mind that this is not about what we expect, demand, insist on from the other person, but what we would like to strive for in ourselves, as the highest ideal of true love and intense, all-accepting dedication.

When one of the chorals in Bach’s Christmas Oratory passionately asks: “How shall I receive you…,” it is a question about self-improvement, about being the best possible host to another being’s presence. It is not about “how shall I be received, how shall I make a good impression, or what can I get out of this encounter.”

Granted that most religious energies are about the market place, about how I can get the most out of the gods with the least effort, with the least chance of getting clobbered for having done something wrong. A cheap opportunism, a naked fear of greater powers, calculates what needs to be done to get to the dog food before the others do. – But all this is trite and simply uninteresting.

Indeed, we may tell much about the character of people by the image of the gods they harbor in their soul and what role those play in their universe. Few people seem to consider what an ideal higher or more advanced being actually should look like. They just adopt the first god from the street as their own.

If we started with a description of the finest persons we know (not necessarily the most effective hustlers), articulated these qualities (for example in a grandmother or in a child) we could then try to imagine how these very qualities could be developed into near perfection. Then we would have some basics for a god, probably of quite a different persuasion than we are used to.

If the theory of multiple universes is right, then it could well be that in one of these infinitely many universes such beings exist. They, furthermore, could have developed the ability to observe us and seek out similar qualities in us, should we ever develop them in ourselves. Would such beings be able to be friends with and love every living being, or would they resemble the angry god of Old Testament, of which Bertrand Russell remarked that he is not the kind of person one would want to have over for dinner?

Whether such beings exist in the “multiverse” is not as important as the question whether we use the best within us to develop the best of us toward the best we are capable of, just in case we should ever meet up with our own ideal.

What could be of interest is to what extent some of our most idealistic yearnings could be redirected toward one another, but without any obligation to the other person and with mutual understanding of the journey we are undertaking: becoming more human in the highest imaginable sense, with our highest aspiration flowing intensely and freely.

There is a long tradition of this internal spiritual quest as the best focus for religious aspirations, but it is an easily forgotten or sidelined tradition, pushed aside by ravenous, fearful instincts and that ever-present, pathetic will to power.

Once we admit that this inner growth is a better focus for our energies, it becomes as childish to insist that gods must exist as it is petulant to insist that our most cherished human beings match our ever developing, ever changing ideals.

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Story Time

An Angel after a Successful Kill

An Angel after a Successful Kill

We are responsible not only for the stories we tell but also for how we retell the stories. “Truth and Fiction,” the title Goethe chose for his autobiography, is not suggesting that poets like him will take some license with the facts of his life, but rather that we can never fully untangle truth and fiction, even about the lives we live and have lived.

Great writers often can tell us the truth about ourselves far better in their fiction than any lawyer, psychologist, or police interrogator could ever piece together. It is not that art has a better access to “reality;” instead, it is based on the insight that we cannot avoid telling ourselves a story about ourselves, even at the very moment of our actions and interactions with the world.

Arms for Christmas

Arms for Christmas

It is easy enough to tell our life’s tragedy in such a way as to generate compassion for us. It is also easy to articulate our life’s passages so that there is much to find comical. Sometimes there may even be short stories that could make children gently smile with delight.

Religious stories are no exception. Once we admit that what we now tell about gods, angels and heroes is at least as recreated as our own stories, then the most important question is: why do we choose to tell these religious stories rather than others, and why do we choose to tell them the way we do?

Does it matter whether the Christmas story of Mary and Jesus is based on far older Egyptian stories? Isn’t it more important whether the story teller chose to surround the newborn child with grim soldiers and lots of weapons or adorned the image with simple shepherds, animals and a happy family, perhaps even a childlike angel or two?

three little angels

three little angels

Do we tell such stories to intimidate, to lay the foundation for abusive power, for extracting the last dime from the poor? Or are we sharing pleasant analogies, rich in symbolism about feelings and experiences other human beings have tried to capture in a contagiously kind way?

Does it matter that Yuletide comes from the  ”old Norse jól a heathen feast lasting twelve days” (OED) and we therefore still sing of the “Twelve days of Christmas” or that the Christmas Tree comes from a Germanic tradition?

Can we enjoy together, especially in the northern winters, heart-warming stories about newborn children, or are we going to focus on some nasty tale a god with limited imagination exterminating newborns?

Mary go round and round

Mary go round and round

If there were an absolute “truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” then perhaps we should try to tell it and omit everything else. Until we have access to that kind of nurturing or killing truth, we should first consider what effect our choices of symbols, stories, and interpretations have on our environment, our fellow human beings, and especially our children. Why admit that Santa Clause is really “only” a nice story but insist that the story about the “Nativity” is truly about human sinners needing someone to be born to be crucified to mollify his father’s anger?

There is nothing wrong with heartwarming stories, as long as we admit that we are trying to weave together fiction and truth, while also trying to outgrow nightmares in favor of kinder, more helpful dreams.

Yes, sometimes it is necessary to unmask intentional lies and distortion, in order to stop destructive people from continuing along the path of their chosen stories in progress. But the rest is not silence: the rest should be our stories and our song, to share in honest poetry.

Most cultures have generated some rather vicious tales, if only to justify their nasty impulses. But most cultures, including perhaps our own, have also tried to give life to our search for harmony, beauty, and the mysteries of birth and of newborn children as our hope for a better future.

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Unwanted

Among Plato’s collection of somewhat adolescent pronouncements is his famous “to know the good is to do the good.” In a recent interview with Spiegel magazine, the well-experienced actress Senta Berger remarked that, while she sees theater as a moral undertaking, she would not really want to play moral persons, since immoral figures are so much more interesting.

She adds that she is certainly not a moral actress, but tries to be a moral person. When she is not working, off-stage she tries. One hopes “valiantly,” because, if there were no struggle, she probably would not be all that interesting, certainly not tabloid material. Indeed, during the 70s she is said to have been fascinated by left-wing radicals, and she still likes to recount her struggles with the casting-couch.

If we consider also the fascination of our newspapers, Hollywood, our politicians, our preachers with all that is not good: isn’t it time to admit that we are really attracted to the source of all “evil,” like flies to honey, and only like to admire from afar all those boring people who are already thoroughly and permanently good? What would Ronald Reagan have been without the Evil Empire? He would have remained a shallow actor. What would our revivalist preachers be without their periodic fall from grace into pornographic apple sauce?

Ms. Senta Berger goes so far as to say that the moral can only be defined through the immoral: spoken like someone who knows how to stage effective drama and comedy.  When we exhort other people, including our own children, to be moral, are we not tempting them to resign themselves to irrelevance, to predictable and boring powerlessness because of having become painfully uninteresting?

Perhaps that is the ultimate horror of those mythical orphanages: that they ruthlessly try to turn children into good children, condemning them to no life at all, for all eternity. Can one imagine anything more crazy-making than to be elevated to a chorus of angles that does nothing but sing “Alleluia,” over and over and over, for all eternity, with only the occasional Amen sprinkled in for diversion?

At the beginning of World War I, young middle-class men were said to have been going to the front in droves, singing with excitement, because they had been bored by too much peace and quiet for far too long. Goodness as the real source of war…

Even my hairdresser, as she cut unruliness off my head, reminded me, that forbidden sex is always sweeter than what is expected from us off stage, lights out, dutifully consummating legal contracts, with a kind smile, on time. Is this perhaps also the reason for our newest villains, the bankers, and their reality theater, the financial crisis? If so, then should we thank them for their transgressions, as we thank our preachers for their sins?

Is there an evil intent hidden in people who preach goodness? Are they trying to seduce us to a life of “to know the good is to do nothing”?

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On Sale

I am really going to miss you,
cried the newly red state to the former blue:
you were my only fertile  issue,
and I always felt so new,
opposing you.

A Perfect Match

A Perfect Match

Get yourself a tissue,
reprimanded its experienced mate,
and lets meet in another state,
to demonstrate our mutual hate,
to all voters without clue.

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The Danger of Debating Republicans

Surely Mark Twain could not have been thinking about current Democrats when he pronounced (Innocents Abroad):

“Nobody can steer a donkey, and some collided with camels, dervishes, effendis, asses, beggars and every thing else that offered to the donkeys a reasonable chance for a collision.”

It used to be that few people on the liberal side of the spectrum seemed able to avoid endless collisions with each other, constantly on the lookout for “a reasonable chance for a collision.” Whether cats would be an even better symbol for the disorganized lot that left-leaning politicos tended to make, could have been another good bone of contention.

What is troubling about the endless debates of the many Republican candidates for President is that sooner or later they might start to sound as disorganized as former liberals. It is high time for these “debates” to stop or they might start to look like donkeys colliding with asses, and nobody could tell the difference. It is really unfortunate that, instead, the Democrats could now be confused with a peaceful herd of deer, if we didn’t know how much they enjoy all the war stuff and the bang for the buck like the best of well-organized Republicans of yore.

Just think, if disorganized discussion lasted long enough somebody could start to think. Even the Democrats, grazing the greener pastures of high profit, have not shown much sign of that recently.

 

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Heroes

At a recent auction, a copy of a 1938 comic book on Superman was sold for $2.1 million.

This isn’t about children being sold silly comic books (to “capture their imagination”), it is about our financial heroes who have so much money to play with that they have to choose what trash might pass as a good investment, while their very own government representatives work hard to keep them from having to pay taxes, which (the Christian God forbid) might otherwise end up in the hands of the poor and needy.

I can't resist stealing, therefore I am a Hero

I can't resist stealing, therefore I am a Hero

We have here another obvious example of great leadership that needs to be rewarded, because it is trickling down money into speculative garbage, making this world of ours great. It is only a slight irony that the comics’ Superman supposedly saved good people from greedy crooks and corrupt politicians, straining at the limits of his stupefying powers to fight the very injustice which makes such obscene wealth possible these days.

The narcissistic, ruthlessly irresponsible ways in which so much extreme wealth has been extracted from our society can only be trumped by the even more callous ways in which it is then “invested,” to the adoring applause of the faithful, for the good of the country.

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