Memes by Themes #14: Politics
“The illusion of freedom will continue as long as it’s profitable to continue the illusion. At the point where the illusion becomes too expensive to maintain, they will just take down the scenery, they will pull back the curtains, they will move the tables and chairs out of the way, and you will see the brick wall at the back of the theatre.”
—Frank Zappa, Interview with Jim Ladd, Zappa On Air, April 1977
We’re almost at the brick wall.
Actually, our faces have been smashed against it for years, but only a few people noticed.
The rest have kept their eyes fixed on the curtain shreds, insisting there’s a lush tapestry there while pretending not to feel the mortar scraping their noses.
Some will tell you this thread is prettier than that one; this one is stronger, while that one is weaker; this one won’t cut into our skin as sharply as that one.
Objectively, they may be right.
But why does anyone still believe we need these threads at all?
They’re just window dressing on a bloody brick wall.
A brick wall that tells you you can only go so far.
That you can only think these thoughts.
That you can only feel these feelings.
That you can only do these things.
As Bill Hicks says, “You are free … to do as we tell you! You are free … to do as we tell you!”
Once you stop believing in Santa Claus, it’s hard to muster the enthusiasm to slide down the banister to see what Santa left under your balsam fir during a sky gallivanting pitstop.
Nietzsche puts it this way: “And once you are awake, you shall remain awake eternally.”
As a politically agnostic accidental anarchist, I’ve lost faith in politics.
I’ve reached my fool-me limit.
You can’t vote your way out of tyranny.
That’s why Stalin wasn’t worried about elections:
“I consider it completely unimportant who in the party will vote, or how; but what is extraordinarily important is this—who will count the votes, and how.”
We’re riding on the escalator of totalitarianism, and the only way out is off.
I’m not going to tell you whether to vote or whom to vote for because you are a free, sovereign human being, and those decisions are entirely yours. If you want the cruelites to rule over you, that’s your prerogative.
I summed it up as follows in In Praise of Dangerous Freedom:
“I don’t care who you voted for. I don’t care what party you’re registered under. I don’t care whom you’re planning to vote for. I don’t care if you don’t vote at all. All I care about is whether you are pro-tyranny or pro-freedom. If you’re pro-freedom, welcome to our karass.”
I have never been more emotionally detached from an election—not only because I have suffered the greatest perspective shifter conceivable and have consumed a grand total of zero election-related content while grieving my beloved Michael, but also because once you recognize the magician’s misdirection strategy, all you see is the handwaving.
I want to see behind the hands. I want to see what the hands are hiding.
Best part of all is I am bulletproofed from disappointment.
No matter who wins or loses, I don’t care.
That isn’t apathy; it’s Stoicism.
Because I know that even if the worst possible candidate “wins,” we’re gonna be okay.
I’m an Apocaloptimist, after all.
Because they are the illusions, and we are the real thing.
“It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine).”
I’m no longer pinning my hopes to a political savior.
No “leader” is going to solve my problems.
That’s my responsibility. That’s our responsibility.
Like Glinda tells Dorothy, “You’ve always had the power.”
Are you ready to put on your ruby-red slippers and kick the shit out of that brick wall?
If enough of us kick, it will fall.
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