Mark Gowan's Blog, page 3

“What do you do?”

We can thank religion, also, for our fanatic worship of work. Because of our newly founded idiocracy (caused also by unfounded belief) our imaginations have been drained dry and what is left is a shell, ready to be filled by ideology and idiocy.

We are not interested in what purpose each of us has or to what end that we act or thinking, but only to what the other “does”. What an ugly word: “does”. It is only interested in meritocratic acts, in usefulness, only in biding time until death.

“What do you do?” “What have you done?” These questions lack interest and sincerity. They are not asked out of curiosity but out of judgement. They are not asked out of interest. No. Only out of the lack of knowing what else to ask.

Work is defined from necessity now. It is no different than eating, sleeping or shitting; a bodily function. I am not interested in “what you do”- but only “why you do it”. But to no avail because meritocracy inevitably leads to the mediocracy of money.

Bertrand Russell: On Population and Marriage

“What is regrettable at present is not the decline of the birthrate in itself, but the fact that the decline is greatest in the best elements of the population.”

As many quip-we are living in an idiocracy. The worst “elements” have taken the reins of the great machine and are driving it into its final and fiery finish, and to what end? They themselves are not aware perhaps, of the consequences of their actions if for no other reason than the idiocy that they worship.

The world, then, will not be brought down by satan or a cruel god, but by the lack of intelligence and wit. But who are “we” that are not unconsciously burdened by stupidity and consciously fighting such perspicuous lack of intelligence?

“We” are those that recalculate our brains from entertainment and information to rationality and wisdom. “We” are those that read and write rather than watch and react. And alas we will become rare and in the end extinct, barreled over by the mass overwhelm of blank stares and empty minds.

Bertrand Russell: The State

“Thinking ill of others is not in itself a good reason for thinking well of ourselves.”

The destruction of other nations, allies or not, were of no concern. Only the continued well-being of America’s richest mattered. It was where they were and as long as their state was a stronghold the rest of the world was of no import.

At the end of the day it was a competition and the good was on their side; it was manifest destiny! Those that surrounded him always reminded him that God was an American God, and America was destined by God to rule “His Kingdom”.

He knew who they were talking about but also knew that it would be him doing the ruling. Competition was heating up but he had a plan-he and his small group of hand-picked cohorts. The Fathers of Freedom (FOF) were happy as long as he gave them their moral superiority on a plate.

But soon they wouldn’t be a problem either. They were stupid and easily subdued. They loved what he loved, as all Christians did: money and more importantly: power.

Commodity

It’s important to remember that they are misguided fools.  They will believe that the scribblings and rantings of our psychopath, and hold the contradictory thought that he cannot change the world, our world.  We have violence on our side.  Our followers are ravenous and bloodthirsty.  They will soak up these empty ramblings of a madman.

We can’t believe in quick and efficient change from peace and prosperity to chaos and poverty because it will not happen to us.  Just let those bleeding liberals preach piously of peace and talk of rights and justice.  They’ll do so long after these things are just fading memories.  Remember, naïve expectations of normalcy outlive their usefulness like and old, old man.

“We have to realize that this is a ‘now’ era.  It’s important to realize this or be relegated to the past instantly.  No longer can we pretend to stand for anything other than what sells.  That’s what counts.” 

He paused, not expecting anyone to say anything, but just to make sure that his last sentence sunk in.  The minions sat staring as if at their cellphones. 

“We must market sales and that will become easier as Truth disintegrates.  Mass marketing, and everything can be mass-marketed, is what counts.  Everything is a commodity.  Remember that.”

Pride

It was strange to watch a traffic accident.  Everything seemed to slow down.  It was the same with the slow death of our country.  It started with a quiet ritual, a pageantry of sorts, as if nothing had changed.  But it had changed and everyone knew it.

Those that supported this change radiated with spite and revenge in their eyes, or with subtle hope-for-what-I-can’t-comprehend.  Others saw the coming change as one might watch a large asteroid hurdling towards earth: with awe and disbelief; aware that something had not started as much as it has ended.

There was a desire to protect just as there was a desire to explain to the blind what color was or to the deaf what music was.  And so we stood back and hoped there was something left when the atrocity was over, which it always and inevitably would be.  But we all knew one thing:  Human idiocy was only overshadowed by the pride we had in being so.

The Other

What the advisor understood was that there needed to be an ‘other’.  There  always needed to be an ‘other’.  And if there wasn’t an ‘other’ one needed to be invented.  Law, he understood, would be accepted by their followers and would control those that weren’t.  At the end of the day it was all pomp and circumstance but it worked.

“Remember the motto: guns, god, and greed.” The Assistant had reminded everyone at the daily meeting that morning. “Those are the things that sell!  Those are the things that our people want!”

The advisor knew he was right and at the same time knew because he was right he needed to be watched.  But this was a different thought altogether and so he neatly filed it in the back of his mind.

“If you sell those things you can own the fucking world!”  The Advisor had chimed in.  The assistant smiled silently.

Fake News

It was a funny thing, watching people complain about the spectacle that they had created.  There were all the little jabs and the inanity of it all.  One side would whoop and holler, cheering and churning them on while the other side would be appalled and protest.  The protests were most entertaining to the cabinet, those that were the creators of the spectacle.  The were entertaining because they actually took themselves seriously.  The Leader would send troops to “break up unrest” and he smiled.  Even that was spectacle.

But now even that wasn’t necessary.  There were certain statements that would work.

“The enemies of our great nation…” The Leader would begin and whatever he said wouldn’t matter as long as he included these statements.

Don’t believe that the vermin will…there will be ‘tax breaks’.  They just want to steal from your hard-earned wages!” 

There it was, the phrase, the statement, the secret of the spectacle.  Other little gems like “traitors”, “liberals” and any number of things would be used as long as they kept the spectacle going.  People liked the spectacle.  Everything was entertainment.  It was all about the spectacle and nothing else.  It amazed him that it was so easy.  The assistant had been right.

“Just make shit up!”  the assistant had said, “The make shit up on the fly and smoke the hive and watch it rumble and while you do steal the honey.”

The Truth

“The Leader lies.  That’s what he does.  The problem is not his lying but our lack of realizing that his lying is the solution not the problem.”

The Advisor paused, confused.

“Think about it.  The liar says what is untrue, knowing the truth.  But the leader.  No, the leader isn’t lying; he’s saying what he believes to be true.  To him it is true.”

The Advisor sipped his coffee and was silent.  He had learned to listen closely to The Assistant.

“The leader is a narcissist.  He’s a psychopathic liar, right?!”

“Right.”

“Well, what I’m saying is that the leader doesn’t know any of this.  He ‘knows’ he’s telling the truth.  He believes everything he says.  This is a weapon.  This is a gun to be used.  The Leader is delusional, yes, but he doesn’t think he’s delusional.  Hell, the thought never crosses his mind that he is lying.  To him there is no delusion.  It’s just us.  He lies blatantly and without reference to the Truth because to him what he is saying is true.”

The Ruse

First things first.  The system needed to be dismantled but the illusion of legality needed to be maintained.  The mask had been taken off but the illusion needed to stay.  A naked emperor was no good.  The populace needed to say that he was not naked.

“That’s the secret.” The Advisor continued.  “Law, oddly enough becomes tradition the very thing it is based upon.”  He continued.

The more intelligent minions realized that law, if void of trust, is meaningless and so somehow law needed to be both destroyed and maintained.  The less intelligent of the minions were the larger of his problems.  If they weren’t espousing idiocy they were acting like idiots.

“These morons cannot continue blabbering shit!” he yelled.  “They are undermining everything and making us all look like fucking morons.”

“Just calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!  This is a problem.”  The Advisor was pacing the room.

“No.  It isn’t” The Assistant calming continued.  “Think about it.  The American public has the attention span of a fly.  Give them drama and spectacle and keep the spotlight off the places we don’t want attention.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”  The Advisor retorted.

“What I’m talking about is that these idiots, and they are idiots, give us time.  They give us shelter.  While everyone is up in arms about meaningless shit, we get things done.  I’m not going to beat around the bush here.”

The advisor had stopped pacing and was starting to listen.

The Game

The election had been a joke, a 1.3-billion-dollar joke.  During the last few days of the farcical show The Leader had danced on stage and rambled about personal vindictiveness and paranoia.  There was no sense to any of it.  He knew that he was going to “win”.  He knew that he was just biding time.  The billionaires had told him this and so when he simply ran out of things to say he bided his time in public as a flabbergasted public looked on.

Some of his minions were worried.  The Leader was not.

“Sir!”  they would say.  “You have to have an agenda.  You have to something, at least pretend…”

“I tell the truth and my followers want the truth.”  He would interject.

“I tell them the truth.  And you know what they want to know?!”

The Leader paused.

“Um, yessir.  What do they want to know?  The truth?”

The Leader smirked.  He could smell the fear and confusion.

“Yeessss.”  He said slowly.

“They want to know that they are right.  They want to know that they will be vindicated.  I know what they want.  They want to win.  The problem is that everybody thinks this is serious.  It’s a rigged game.  Not just this, but the system.  And so you have to know how to play the system.  And you have to know how to play people.  I am the best at both.  I am a master.  So don’t come and tell me what I need to do.  I’ll tell you what I need to do!”

The minion stood silently.  Then, The Leader laughed.

“It’s a game.  It’s a game!”

The minion was confused.

“It’s all just a game.”