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Not so long ago, it was reported to some extent, if ‘reported’ is even the proper word, that the United States has entered into a state of war with a fourth sovereign nation. Not that Congress had declared war, because that hasn’t happened since June 5th, 1942. Another one of our oily Middle Eastern puppets is in danger of going the way of the dinosaurs, whose gelatinous carcasses fuel our anti-modern world. Any indigenous rebel fighters have quickly been dubbed the next great extremist threat, whether they are fighting for liberty, yearning for free speech or just out buying some fruit. The enemy is shadowy and often unrecognizable, thereby making civilian casualty counts shadowy and often unrecognizable when compared to the reality on the ground. By any common sense use of the word, we are now at war with the people of Yemen. This war is a secret one, though, so please never mention it to Barry. The Idol President has already done so much for the theoretically employed that he is currently preoccupied with achieving higher goals. For
instance, right now he is busy working out how to pump a billion dollars out of the cliff-bound US economy and into the pockets of his re-election team. Considering the trillions he has already gifted to every multinational bank, corporation and Chinese nation around the world, scratching together a billion or so to keep the throne from Ron Paul should be no sweat. Ron doesn’t even know what the hell a twitter is. To be fair, this part of the greater depression is not entirely about the current Commander-in-Chief. The United States has been a fair-weather friend to slick tyrannists like Mommar Gaddafi since the Uncanny ObamaMan was a just very organized third grader. Given the geography of the nation in question, Libya’s internal conflict was quickly deemed an international crisis by something called NATO. I don’t really know what it’s for either, something about organizing treaties, but it sounds a lot like colonization in blue uniforms. I guess you can’t have a peace treaty until after you’ve had a war or five…that the public knows about. All the President did was to follow the same orders given to his predecessors: bomb the shit out of whoever the CIA is
fairly certain likes us the least. If Al-Qaeda might be hiding in the craggy Afghan mountains, then flatten the landscape; let the drones take out whomever is unfortunate enough to crawl out alive—man, woman or child. Even maybe shoot a few warnings Pakistan’s way, since they have no reason to align with China against us, right? With Osama bin Laden taking a long, wet nap, many people are wondering when the military can declare victory and withdraw the hundred thousand troops entrenched needlessly in harm’s way. Don’t hold your breath. Exhale that fine chronic you have been ingesting and sober down. We will leave Afghanistan as soon as the Saudis are damn well good and ready to let us set up new bases within marching distance of Sanaa, Tehran and Mecca, or when economic disaster forces us to do so. What about the one hundred thousand combined troops and mercenaries operating in Iraq, you ask? They’ll be called off as soon as the Ayatollahs in Iran are humming the Star Spangled Banner before the first pitch of Game 1 at the Arab League Championship Series, or when economic disaster forces us to
do so, and not a decade sooner. No way around it--yes the economy, obviously, is pretty damn depressing. The frightening statistics on the continuing global collapse are so staggering that Anthony Weiner’s penis is the top news chum as home values plummet deeper than they did during the Great financial depression of the nineteen thirties. The Dow has been soaring, for now, as personal bank balances have been dwindling, for good. The official unemployment figure, which only counts those who are actually still encouraged enough to look for a job or have not already expired their pittance, continually hovers around nine per cent—officially. This neatly breaks down to, at bare disgusting minimum, fourteen million directionless Labor Zombies moaning throughout the 7-11 graveyard shift. The houseless, bankrupted, hopeless shells of humanity forced to pull their children mindlessly about dying no-name towns, trading one shitty minimum wage job for another without so much as a glint in their eyes or hope for retirement in their futures. Destined to roam the ‘Applicants Need Not Apply’ employment landscape until the
faulty memory of time brushes them out of sight and mind, Labor Zombies forever wonder exactly which was the midnight stroke that awoke them from the American Dream. As with any depression, the easiest answer is drugs, lots of drugs. Any drug you can afford to grab down at your local nationwide pharmacy chain, with only the notable exceptions being those
aggressively banned since October 27th, 1970
Fortunately there are 17 FDA approved drugs that are used as a medical alternative to the Schedule I ‘narcotic’ cannabis. This cocktail of miracles include Marinol, a chemically engineered THC derivative, Haldol, Lithium, Ritalin, Adderall and Vioxx. This is great news for the pharmaceutical industry, bad news for the families of the ten thousand victims for which these drugs were the primary cause of death between 1997, the year subsequent to California’s ‘medical marijuana’ laws being passed, and 2005. Meanwhile, nearly 800,000 Americans are arrested annually for cannabis possession, an herb which has been directly responsible for zero deaths in over 10,000 years of ritual, medical, industrial and recreational use. Basically, the
elected government approves of painful death as an acceptable medical side effect, while violently banning euphoria, so long as campaigns get a cut of the profit in the end. Largely due to America’s longest and most blundered war effort, the War on Drugs, the prison population has risen to nearly that of Stalin’s Russia in the span of a couple of generations. The taxpayer cost for this illusion of safety is nearly seventy billion dollars per year. Does this sound like the will of the people? America is fighting so many wars at once that sometimes the enemy is hard to identify. For example, former Marine and Iraq war veteran Jose Guerena, who was shot sixty times by the Tucson SWAT team barreling down his door in the morning hours of May 5th, was supposed to be a drug dealer in the midst of a major dirty deal. Sixty rounds were required to put the man down, since the scumbag had a rifle and the Kevlar-laden police were in imminent danger. Except that Jose’s wife was also home at the time of the massacre, hiding in their son’s bedroom. The story she told that day led
to a deeper investigation, which discovered that while the Marine did have a rifle, the safety was never unlocked. Crouched in a defensive position, Jose Guerena called for identification that came in the form of burning lead. Afterwards, SWAT personnel kept medics from the gasping man for nearly an hour while his wife watched every last breath of her dying partner disperse into the waking Arizona sun. The cover up was bravely exposed, yet one has to wonder how often this kind of execution is successfully kept quiet in the Land of the Free? Meanwhile, the true beasts of weird, wild Washington have no interest in settling social carnage, instead deciding that political ideology—as opposed to job creation, health and retirement security, debt control, or the erosion of the Constitution—must trump all cultural advancement. Every couple of years a narcissistic gang of Nigerian princes convene to scam the country into following any direction but the right one. Not that this is all Congress’ fault. Believe it or not, we still do have a representative government, though our unfortunate leadership reflects the temperament of a
fickle constituency. How can true hope ever emerge with our general population being a gullible collection of idolaters, apathists and far too few revolutionaries? The Greater Depression is that the 9.11 generation can not remember the prosperous, optimistic America we have heard so much about, or any inkling that any of us might have had to its Camelot-like existence is rapidly waning. Now we only have the self-serving policies of the mediaproclaimed ‘elite’ class as a template to rebuild what their greed has destroyed. As depressing as the challenges may seem, we always have the opportunity to create a superior future for ourselves. Every moment that passes, another person realizes just how much our lives are made to resemble those of infected lab rats. Eventually enough of us will get tired of running the maze and begin to take some control over our Fate. Yes, we can wait 20 or 30 years for the eventual violent mass uprising or we can enact peaceful, intelligent changes right now. Yes, we can stop wasting votes on manufactured politicians, create reasonable energy policies and start valuing education once again. Yes, we can
even rise above the lofty expectations of most cherished ancestors, if we want to. Regardless of our ultimate Fate, history will also remember America as the nation that touched the sky and then rocketed past it. The nation born from the idea that personal freedom will lead to cumulative paradise and that all persons are endowed with the right to pursue their own Eden. A free land that once faced an uncertain new century cowering beneath the oppressive specter of decline. The next chapter of our tale is about to be written…are you determined to enter your own name into the eternal discussion or content to be forgotten amongst history’s unread foot-notes? The choice, as always, lies within.
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