We’re All Romans Now

(11 am. – promoted by ek hornbeck)

There is only one reason governments’ lie. Truth leads to government by the people. Government by the people is the enemy of the form of government we have now – government by corporate/militarist conspiracy.

We see how Presidents, chosen by the people, are nothing but changed light-bulbs. Out with the old and in with the new but the product they sell remains the same. The light from the new bulb may be shiny and full of hope but the electricity which runs the Company Town called America is the same as it ever was; the atomic power of the almighty buck.

The Protestant Work Ethic is an ode to slavery, not to mention a slam against all the other slaves who work just as hard for peanuts. The Greatest Generation is a monument to the ability of the elites to mobilize the common man for the common good which is always for war which is good for tyrants, bankers and avaricious purveyors of discord. When our historical record shows war upon war back into the Ice Age then shouldn’t we forget all the goofy political reasons for the war of the moment – freedom, defense, evil enemies – which are never-changing, and focus instead upon humanity’s insatiable addiction to the dark side? If the common people, you and me and billions like us, just want to ‘have fun’ then how come humanity finds itself in constant strife and conflict? Are these all family feuds on steroids?

What is the purpose of war when we know the justifications of the day are the same old ones we have heard for millennia and nothing ever changes but the names? Poor men are marshaled to fight for causes they don’t care about in exchange for bread and glory. Common men brawl in bars they don’t go to war. Only Kings go to war, dragging their kingdoms kicking and screaming behind them.

When we hear Obama talk of ‘necessary’ wars and the just cause of the “war” against Terror, in whatever perambulation, we don’t see a President of the United States but a talking bobble-head on the rear dash of Daddy’s Big Black Car. You don’t mess with Big Daddy. He says, “It’s a dangerous world out there. America is in peril of destruction. We must defend ourselves or die. Hail America! Hail 911! Hail America!”

Saint Bobble-head.

You don’t hear about all the people of empire who are caught up in the ‘end times’ of any given empire. The people who just want to have fun and mind their own business; trade fairly and part amicably. Live long and die well. Peoples are caught up in the games of their Kings and Courts of Aristocracy. It is all a game like Chess. Humans are an abstraction. Extras. Pawns. Fodder. The white noise background of an Ego’s quest for glory and plunder. The Empire stretches and expands and sucks up everything it can to pay for its expansion and finally the rubber band snaps. Pushback on the boundaries, retreat to strategic borders, weak morale and corruption along the supply line, less warriors and more murderers among the ranks. A mission to hold the fort until it is over-run by barbarian freedom-fighters out to push the empire back to the small town from which it sprang hundreds of years before.

We’re all Romans now. Financing the debt of Empire. Holding together the shreds of society built upon noble principles and fond remembrances. Afraid to rebel because we understand the tenuous nature of civility and the short walk to the macabre theatrics of uncivilized man. Chaos. Anarchy. Rule of the Jungle. Though, the victims of Empire have experienced this horror for generations, the people of Empire are swept up in the vortex of contraction and are left defenseless in the face of onslaught. Society splinters and disintegrates back into smaller identities – from Empire to village – until Kevin Costner can piece it all back together again with the Pony Express. Meanwhile it’s War Lords and their barbarian fighters against defense outposts of common men, women and children who are just trying to make the best of a bad situation.

Bread and circuses were the order of the day in Rome to keep the peoples’ mind off the crumbling of Empire and all the fiddling around to keep it going as long as possible to sustain the privilege of the ruling elite. And today we have 500 channels of bread and circuses not to mention a world wide web of possibility to distract. Meanwhile, those with eyes can clearly see an emperor with no clothes. The Treasury is not full of plunder but is laid bare – the gold is gone and the bankers pound on the door for the repayment of ‘national’ debt. Generals beg for more troops. Occupied populations are in revolt. The people at home are restless and confused – not to mention broke and disillusioned. The government is corrupt. Business is dishonest. Crazy preachers are prophesying the signs and omens of the judgment day. Scholars are making plans to hideaway all that is known so we don’t have to start over from scratch. Forward looking profiteers are looking to morph from farmers’ markets to black markets and have begun to hoard the essentials.    

They say when you die you wake up next to your body and sometimes it takes a while to realize you’re dead. Sometimes it takes time to see something once so permanent and inviolable is over and done. But then, once you finally put it together and say, “Whoa! I’m dead” is precisely when you’re able to move on to the new world. At least, that’s what they say.

There is a new world coming. And you don’t have to die to get there. Though many will because the road from here to there is filled with goblins and monsters of karma and ignorance, mixed in a brew with billions of flesh and blood drama queens. Shit, bad shit, is bound to happen. It’s part of the equation. Expansion, contraction and reverberation. So you don’t want to get caught nude sunbathing when the tsunami comes. But, wait a second, some folks built Cold War bomb-shelters to protect from a nuclear winter which never came. Crazy folks are always predicting the end of the world. Bad shit is always happening if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. And what if the inevitable fall of empire and blowback doesn’t happen for years? There is plenty of stretch to go in our little empire. We can reach accommodation with the Chinese and make a whole new empire. We can get rid of corruption. We can make amends with enemies and victims. We can tap new markets in outer space and nanotechnology to clean up pollution, cure disease and secure eternal life. We’re just one little step away, one turn of the corner away from making things better and ushering in a new era of progress and prosperity for all people.

Exactly so.

How not to get swept up in hysteria and how not to get caught with your pants down? How to understand and prudently prepare without running around like a chicken with its head cut off cackling about the falling of the sky. How to separate the serious from the dramatic?

First of all, if God enters into your equation, then go take a seat and relax. Unless the God you envision is the Earth, then you might be on to something. If there is any reasoning in your equation about morality and judgment for the wicked, then take a seat. If you figure in secret societies and grand conspiracies, then get thee behind me Satan. Because, the point of collapse, and that is what we are talking about here, is its out of anyone’s control. Seismic shifts in politics and society. A crash, a lurch, a calm before the storm and then, wham, you’re not in Kansas anymore. And the rest is ancient mythologies of lost empires swept before the deluge.

So, while not freaking out or anything, I am calmly, quietly and very quickly, uh, building this Ark in the backyard. It’s not very big. No one told me to collect a male and female of every species under the sun. Just room enough for me and mine; some food and drink, a few pot plants and uh, magazines, some Jack Reacher novels and sunscreen.

Now by inference because I’m building an Ark I think there is a flood coming, but that wouldn’t be right. This is the 21st century and we can now build multi-purpose Arks using the latest in polystyrene and graphite. Airtight and fireproof. Watertight and submersible. Okay, I’m not building it. I bought it from a drug cartel. It’s a submarine okay? I can go under if it’s a fire and I can sail around in a flood and it’s airtight from the plague. My biggest worry is a giant squid mutated by nuclear fallout crushing the hull with its giant tentacles. That could really damage the boat.

So no worries. But you know how in The Graduate, the big investment advice was Plastics? Well, shh, come here, listen up; put all your cash in clean water, toilet paper, booze and cigarettes.