Our nation slides toward oblivion in unredeemable debt.
But who cares? It’s only money.
The national debt will never be repaid. We all know it, but nobody talks about it because we’re lost and we’ve never been here before.
We’ve never been at a juncture in history where money doesn’t matter.
In ages past, money mattered, but it doesn’t any more.
If you’re one of the inequality lackeys you’ve got a meal-ticket on a card, or so I’m told.
If you’re one of the equality beneficiaries you’ve got an expense account on a chip in your billfold.
The real movers and shakers are all just electrons streaming around in netspace, racking up virtual debits and credits in a webbish world that strains to retain some ideal standard that hasn’t really existed since grampa died and gramma went to the nursing home.
We pretend that the national debt matters while our brave new worldview slips into blahblah debit card oblivia, along a slow slide of credita magnifica.
But we're in a long, sluggish slide.
The leftish cadres analyze and strategize to death our slow slog into postcapitalist egality mediocrity.
Meanwhile back at the suburban ranch conservatives dream of pie-in-the-sky return to days gone by in which every man or woman set a course toward their own comfort and prosperity. Good luck with that.
All along the watchtower, our planet bleeds, while civilization recedes.
Our manifest destiny bleeds out as welfare mediocrity. We’re all on welfare, just haven’t admitted it yet. We’re all leaning on the largesse of a depleting State. When someone trips the alarm we'll be racing to the exits.
Common sense poses now as tweets, while common decency slowly but surely retreats.
Maybe it’s always been this way, but never before on such electronified magnitude as we have now.
What began in human history as sword-swinging contention stealthily slashes through our sedated society as a hi-tek tirade of weaponized malcontent.
The imminent ideology showdown will not likely roll in as some entertaining video event. Rather, it may be a bloody mess, a severe letdown, or, as we used to say in the old country, a pain in the ass.
Might be a good time to get saved.
Turn or burn. Travelers’ Rest.