Sometime ago, the “culture of complaint” – wrote an art critic for Time Magazine, Australian-American Robert Hughes – shows the spoiled side of a wealthy country since Vietnam. Now, the children of the boomers are not meant to behave as they had done on the streets in the ’60s and ’70s.
Presidents of the United States are suffering from an obsessive compulsive disorder: they are asking their “subjects” to be glad with being American. The natural borns must be thankful to god that they were lucky enough to be born here, and the immigrants grateful to the state and society that they were admitted. Any deviance from such gratitude in protest, by exercising citizenship and constitutional rights, merits a mind scourge, literally.
Washington Post’s Bob Woodward, the doyen of investigative journalism since Richard Nixon’s abuse of power in the late 1960s and early 1970s, has been compromised to calling it “keeping the country safe” on Sunday morning talk shows. The National Defense Authorization Act (NDAA) can lock you up with no recourse if the government believes you are a potential national security threat.
United States, fortunate to find itself – as the world around it imploded after Lincoln and America’s civil war, with a bi-coastal fertile continent between the taiga and the tropics, and flung so far out of sight of the rest of the multitudes of the world to only gather a bare fraction of them over 500 years since Columbus (1200 years since Erik the Red treaded on New Foundland, the Vikings would say) is to be cordoned off from the crowds of the rest of the world with the trademark puritanical American civility.
The pistols, guns, tear gas canisters and police batons are not found in ready, open sight in the enforcement of American law and order. America, after all, is highly technologically advanced not to not condition its denizens to the ways of orderly, compliant life without complaint. The air waves these days create a cocoon of complicit minds, all 320 million of them, men, women and children – an avatar of a society in virtual anarchy. It is a release from the orderliness of abiding by the strictures of the American existential condition, its real way of life, in material comfort, on average, of about $50,000 a year.
This virtuality with its own masks and currency online and the constant hum of company makes the far too many coincidences in the daily lives of Americans an indubitable reality. You feel as though your neighborhood knows what did you did last night once you step into the street, that your voice is being heard making you feel a part of the community, and any public skepticism about feeling known when not working to be known will turn your life into the horror of “I know what you did last summer.”
The American state is far too certain that it is indeed the right thing. It is not to be changed. The “Change We Believe In” (who is “we?” The President’s Club the press is going gaga over?) is to keep it what it is by mind control in the clairvoyance of the radio cover to comply with the orchestration that is your life.
You know when silence sets in by the prolonged ringing sound in your ears, or in military suicides averaging more in number than my articles in these pages in one month, or in mass murders by average Americans, high school and college students, neuroscience soon-to-be PHDs, pastors, and a former vice president “mistaking” a fellow hunter for a quail.
Liberty is for another day for the mere mortals to whom America feels like a god-playing cuckoo’s nest.