I’m in the mood to rant. Those of you who’ve been with me a while know I do that from time to time. Some of you, the more insane, even love me for it. A few of you pat me on my head, and abide me my rants.
For those in the mood, not to love or to abide, then I would say…. run.
Come back tomorrow, the fit of truth will have passed, and I will be a cuddly clown again, cooing and capering for pleasures… cloying.
But right now, like Lovecraft’s mad apocryphal Arab, Abdul Alhazred, the fit is on me. Sometimes the blood seeps into my eyeballs, the blood of all those we are killing… and it is either speak or die.
So the words will have their say….
Everyday
Everyday I wake up, I ask myself if I’m on the side of the angels
Every single day.
I don’t take it for granted I am.
On the side of the angels I mean.
Most people take it for granted, that they were right yesterday, and will be right today and tomorrow. Particularly Americans. Americans are always so sure that they are right, adamant of their right before they do something so glaringly wrong. No nationality in the history of the world has ever been so documented in their lies not just against other nations, but lies against their own citizens. America has repeatedly and consistently been wrong about yesterday, yet continues to follow the same wrong path through ever more bloody todays and tomorrows.
As if true choice, and true change were concepts America steered away from long ago, and no longer even sees.
I don’t take it for granted that in the night, the causes I love have not been invaded by the causes I loathe, And the things I adore, have not been replaced by what I despise
That is the nature of evil
It sheds its skin
It is ever changing, ever moving
And you must be on guard
Ever on guard
And guided not by stagnant allegiances
But by the fruit of your present tree. That is the constant question you must challenge everyone and everything with. What are your actions sowing? If they are things you fear to show, and fear to acknowledge, then your fruit is rotten, and your tree withered.
And the only sane thing to do, is to cut down the old… and to plant a new tree.
But god… are we fond of the old.
I think of that generation that stood around when Christianity called burning people righteous.
I think of that generation that stood around when Christianity called slavery holy.
I think of that generation that stood around when Christianity called Jews an abomination.
I think of that generation that stood around when Christianity cheered killing Arabs to save them.
And of that generation, that is ever changing and always unchanged, I would say simply
If people die at the end of the day… perhaps it be not Christianity, but something else.
Something that wears the skin of righteousness but not the heart.
Perhaps Rome never relinquished herself to Daniel’s Christians
Perhaps Rome, the idealogical not the geographical, survived
The only way evil ever does endure
by hiding
by changing
by subverting
Like klansmen and scorned ex- slaveholders invading Lincoln’s party post the Reconstruction,
Making of the Republican party
Making of the Party of Tolerance and Abolition
That which it was not.
A party of bigotry and landholders (that is not an insult, that is history and verifiable fact in the wake of the reconstruction)
Perhaps in this same way Rome, the religion of Rome
Rome, the ancient
Survives under the guise of the religion it hated
Even to the naming of the days of the week
And not keeping the Sabbath
So Be ever mindful Christian soldiers
Marching as to war
That you have been
led astray
bamboozled
hoodwinked
And be wary
lest the cause you fight for my Christian Brothers
is the one you should be armed against
Heroic Times 