Your Number

Have you heard the creeping crescendo of alarmism about... loneliness? Not that that's really here or there. Where such 'talk' leads, however... that is here.

Your Number

I'm aware that 'belonging' is a thing. A 'thing' that draws people into groups. That creates 'communities' through 'experiences'. That builds 'identities' around places and rituals and memberships.

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I, nevertheless, do not feel so... inclined. It's not as if a demonstrably 'national' celebration incites in me, a 'belonging' to political borders, for example. I have participated in a share of 'shared experiences', sure. But I can't say that a moment stamps upon me, a genuine connection to every participant who lived and breathed then and there, too. Likewise, so-called 'histories of residence' do not 'root' me indelibly to patches of lithosphere.

Please. I am not one of a number. 

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On the other hand, I see you drawn to being one of a number.

Which is to say, I see you fall in. To craft narratives about who should possess power and what power should control. To harness avarice and ambition. To collectively achieve all that's inconceivable. Even if the price of victory is appeasing a wannabe-tyrant by fulfilling a wannabe-tyrant's anti-democracy 'project'.

Which is to say, I see you reach. Beyond death and taxes. For a promise of immaterial glory, never mind a materially plural nation. For a 'plan', never mind a democracy of, for, and by a self-governed people. For a yoke of obedience that disdains self-government and declares an absolute lord dictates justly.

Which is to say, I see you throw yourselves. Into 'fandoms'. Devoted to 'parasocial relationships' with 'public personalities'. Because being a 'follower' means never not loving, never not praising, never not defending your idols, your celebrities, your own.

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Which is to say, this 'belonging' is a 'thing'. A 'thing' that aggregates the eager for 'association'. Fueled by perceived exclusion. To depart reality for

The Land of Feelings are Facts.

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I, to put it simply, don't feel tempted by The Land of Feelings are Facts. Because I'm partial to the truth. 

As I see it, the truth doesn't 'make reality' out of fables. It's not a 'main character' and it doesn't exist 'for the plot'. It's not 'making converts' out of audiences yearning to be told what's 'really' happening is what's in fact not happening.

Because the truth isn't about how feelings feel. Or what beliefs are believable. 

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On the other hand, I see you defining

what's false as what's true and what's pretend as what's real. To 'belong'. To an imagined 'number'. 

This imagined 'number' is vast, consequential, and triumphant. Of course it's invention is to make believers out of audiences that strive to be seen, that crave inclusion.

Without believers, it's invention is nothing but a ridiculous yarn, a tall tale. Of trifling that whinges itself righteous and patriotic. Of greed wearing its self-importance like a crown. Of faith vacated for vague fearsome 'terrors'.

Of 'worlds' upon 'worlds' where humbugs and flimflams are creators, founders, nay, gods. Because what's faked is what's authentic in The Land of Feelings are Facts.

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I mean, sure, 'belonging' is a 'thing'. But what kind of thing does 'belonging' make you a member of? What kind of thing is your number? In other words, what thing are you faithful to and loyal to, when the 'thing' you 'belong' to...

lies?

Epilogue

From your 'purpose' to your 'motives', you are lead not to The Land of the Truth.

After all, the truth is stark.

It knows that lying isn't evidence of greatness and lies aren't wins. That dumpster fires of both 'restore' neither 'images of stature' nor 'economies'. That feeling otherwise and believing otherwise, 'make' neither true.

Yet your number insist that the truth is owned by you and yours. That the truth is within your power and within your control. Because it is inconceivable that

reality happens

without being crafted or designed or plotted.

Which is bananas. What a crafted 'project' or designed 'plan' or plotted 'narrative' is evidence of, is invention. And invented 'reality' by any name is called fiction, still.

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I ask:

if lying isn't evidence of magnificence... and if lies aren't victories... and if dumpster fires of both 'restore' neither 'perceptions' nor 'pocket currencies'...

why testify that feeling otherwise and believing otherwise 'make' both unimpeachable? why traffic in plainly dishonest 'realities'? if not to test

the witness and obedience of audiences owned by main characters, 'public personalities', founders?

* 

Whatever draws you in, creates 'communities' through 'experiences', builds 'identities' around places and rituals and memberships... whatever sees audiences and includes you... I wonder

if 'belonging' isn't worth what you forswear

to be your number.

M

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Nota Bene

It surprises nobody

that some of you know for sure that defending dumpster fires of lying and lies, is the most courageous act of courage ever; that some of you know for sure that attacking standing in rebuttal and refutation of dumpster fires of lying and lies, is the most courageous act of courage ever. 

Because The Land of Feelings are Facts is abundantly populated with believers in imagined 'numbers', faked and owned by main characters, 'public personalities', founders, nay, absolute masters who dictate like overrated inhuman gods.

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Founders

What's the point of questions that seek neither answers nor solutions? Rhetorical questions like what if... you were founders who created founders?

Founders

You have all the answers.

That is, before a single question blooms within a single mind, you possess every answer to everything.

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Armed opposition? Crush the enemy with increasingly terrible arms. Terrorists? Exterminate zealots who dare breathe and salt their systems of belief that sow blind hatred. Threats unseen and horrors unimaginable? Annihilate unborn specters yet to come.

Immigrants? Stop them. Homeless encampments? Incinerate them. Addicts and their addictions? Judge them and condemn them.

As if simplistic generalizations of them and cavalier edicts of consequences are not only just and moral and necessary but also great!

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Which is to say, you are blessed with every answer to them.

As for:

Your armed and combative, your extremist, your alarming and violent number. Your converted, your dependent, your vulnerable member. Yours

deserve an incalculable margin for error. An

inexhaustible grace, accommodating care, and unconditional material support. Yours

are flawed and ignoble but only human.

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Because you have found an alternate reality of alternate exceptionalism, manifested from hell-broth, that answers everything:

glory.

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Glory is the halo and the shine and the paradise. At least, it could be. Or would be. Or dammit: should be. If not for spoilers who ruin everything.

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Suffice it to say... in the real world, 'glory' isn't granular. It doesn't wind the masses like a colossal clock. Or the rains. Or the galvanizing glitter of gold. You know,

it doesn't make the world go round. And nothing wrecks intangible immateriality like

real world reality.

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Of nations that rise up and decry your swords and crowns as false as idle pledges of probitas. Of humans who behold flimflams glitter like crocodile tears and declare: we plural people are not footstools of lords or masters! Of mortals who bear witness to self-determination denied for dominion, the cornerstone of paradise that is

neither a democracy nor our republic.

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What is glory... if it sacralizes what's indefensible... here, on Earth? If it shields an indwelt belief that you are more than they who are damned; an unapologetic faith in favoritism irrespective of fairness or decency; an imperious mission to subject every human life to unanswerable. absolute. inhuman. power. and its dictates?

Not after life and death, but now? As if this could be... no, would be... dammit, should be

heaven.

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Needless to say, before a single question arrives upon an expectant pause, you know every answer leads to one solution.

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Founders.

No, not them. Not figures cast aside by modernity, mere shadows. You. Main characters of a moment, for a moment, by a moment. A moment that is

a plot.

An invention. A creation. A fiction. Of what isn't true, for what isn't righteous, by what isn't just. Because being founders who create founders means unanswerable. absolute. power. isn't inhuman after all.

Epilogue

How you hiss and froth like hell-broth runneth!

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Any nation, any human, any people can be 'founders' and creators of 'founders'. Whether what's 'found' is an experiment. Or a narrative. Or a belief.  Whether who's 'found' is real. Or fake.

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That is, when an emperor parades new clothes, he 'founds' a narrative. Of his indisputable superiority. For his unassailable favor. By his stature before mere mortals.

His loyalists testify so, too. Not because this is witnessed, but because testifying to what isn't true is flawed and ignoble but only human. Such that an emperor exercises unanswerable. absolute. power. not without fealty.

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Which is to say, to speak as if such allegiance is virtuous and courageous, never mind what is really happening, is to act as if the fairness and reasonableness of main characters and their plots could be... no, would be... dammit, should be measured by the anointing of 'founders' and creators of 'founders'. Not by the inhuman and immortal power of a deity. Please. By followers. and. fans.

And the consensus and consent of a self-governed and plural citizenry of the third millennium be damned. Because 'faith'.

M

Sanctimony Masks

Tell me if you aren't hearing a lot of people say a lot stuff. noise 'passing' as a dialogue that isn't a conversation of equals. babel that exalts faux

martyrs.

Sanctimony Masks

Part I

Believe me! Know everything I say is the truth else God strike me as I speak. Trust me! All that stands between you and the annihilation of everything precious and pious is me.

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Phew, what heady stuff. When every spoken word is soaked in dramatic melodrama:

what is asked of an audience? to

feel all the feels? to feel nothing at all?

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There is a disavowal of responsibility to this kind of speech. to words that plainly and unambiguously:

agitate and provoke. shock and exhaust. that

flippantly disregard exaggeration stretched beyond common sense. that

dig deep to mine frothed foam and indifference.

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Everybody's got an opinion but I know my truth. I speak for myself and I speak for all. of. you. Because if I can be viciously and baselessly assailed, so. can. you. 

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Oh my stars, right? What are you supposed to think when you hear this?

that:

you are under attack? their. opinions. threaten. you?

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There is a pattern to this kind of speech. to words that paint a vivid picture of outrageous hostility. that pitch an audience hurtling

beyond civility to grievous offense. to war. like

fistfuls of matches on fire.

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I will never accept defeat because the Almighty has chosen. I and only I am divinely anointed. All who challenge me are demonic enemies of my God.

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Wow if that isn't stunningly disturbing. belied habitually

by dismissals of what is and what passes for religious fervor as:

harmless beliefs. entitled opinions. deeply personal. innocuous

and immune.

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There is a calculus to this kind of speech. to testimonies of inspired cutthroat religiosity. that shield and sacralize:

justification. apologism. the defense of the indefensible.

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Part II

When we decide, superiority and partiality and dominion, every inexplicable dictate of an inhuman and immortal power, is

above the law,

above the consensus of a plural people,

above the consent of the self-governed,

tell me if you aren't troubled. 

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Is this faith. or. is this something else. something mortal?

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When what is and what passes for fidelity to the laws of an immaterial kingdom dispossesses us of the liberty to live freely without lord or master, without 'belonging' to a deity that imposes its will upon every human life, 

tell me if you aren't uneasy

witness of self-determinism nullified with imperious gracelessness.

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Is this just. or. is this something else. something wrong?

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When sanctimony backstops a doctrine that shields and sacralizes a lot of people saying a lot of stuff,

tell me if you aren't sick of masks that 'pass' for sanctitude

hissing hell-broth.

More or Part III

In some ways, sanctimony masks are about the narrative. about spinning the truth into an act, an entertaining performance whose purpose is to say what isn't happening is what's really happening.

Such speech trusts in an audience's suspension of disbelief. and

complicity.

To turn a blind eye to indefensible measures. to aggressively deny what's really happening is what's really happening. to muscularly assail common ground. to declare

the surrender of the truth: a victory for God.

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As if noise 'passing' as a dialogue that isn't a conversation of equals -

as if babel that exalts faux martyrs -

as if sanctimony masks -

are about exercising the freedom to observe a dogma of superiority and partiality and dominion. or. about something else. something human.

M

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Note

that hell-broth is a reference to Macbeth (Shakespeare)

M