The Insane Asylum

Torture post can wait. I am going to have a Desultory Fuss Day. I can say anything I want, couldn't I? What would the point be of having a Blog otherwise? Who's the one afraid of blogging, anyway? And of the news?

Now granted, I am not so naïve as to think news and opinions irrelevant. Whatever society you look at, you will see the fear at work. Fear, it seems, is the foundation of the State Power. It is just the matter of locating that imaginary, invisible threshold that once crossed would make all the difference to the kind of society we find ourselves in.

Much like that fine line which separates sane rational beings from the denizens of an insane asylum.

The impulse is familiar enough. Who hasn't been irritated by the news or those omnipresent posts felt foolish, mean spirited or otherwise a dangerous manifestation of anti-some-ism or other? And so we go on to humor each other relentlessly, and to poke fun at some particularly banal proposition or some "dangerous" assumption or other.

There are all sorts of silly awards out there for all sorts of silly arguments and various nefarious practices as well, just like Fisking, I guess, whatever else it might have been intended to evoke.

What sane human being, though, could expect to execute a plan that envisions a total communications blackout? Who would organize a group and pay them to spend hours carefully reading and marking sites which must become inaccessible to others?

What are we, children?

And who would be deluded enough to seriously expect to be able to sustain this asinine endeavor over time? I mean, is it possible to control life and all its delirious states? The babble has been endless:

"The armed forces are ready to defend the integrity of the country's borders."

"The Air Force has been instructed to defend certain facilities at all cost!"

"We too are capable of preemptive strikes!"

"And hoorays for the emerging Japan of the Middle East!"

Weasels' war cries if you ask me. And these grandest plans for the grandest civilization, of course, all delusions of people who scare easily by the activities of a handful of bloggers and few unfortunate journalists who write in a society that values words just as much nowadays as horse manure.

Roars of mice, really, that will only bite in darkness. And not even a Nobel Laureate is safe.

Universe must have a wicked sense of humor I think to myself in my moments of unguarded reflections. What sort of a ruling class, do you think, a society will end up with if her citizens can imagine themselves happy living (at least for a while) on the largess of the European or American taxpayers as refugees, and yet are unwilling to speak against the forced expatriation of thousand of her own Afghan Refugees?

What kind of a ruling class do you think we'll end up with in a collective whose members can't bring themselves to offer a penny to the millions left homeless by the tsunami disaster, and yet have enough to spend millions and millions on the hairdos taken from the latest Hollywood representation of what women of Troy and Alexander might have looked like?

A wicked sense of humor indeed! And yet no one deserves this.