Sunday, April 23, 2006

A rambling, disjointed response to my critics, wherein the line between sarcasm and sincerity dissolves and I fail to establish a coherent thesis

Lisa, in a reasonable tone, with well modulated vocal inflections:

“What means should be used? More people notice protests than read letters to the editor. More politicians will respond to a mass of people outside their office than will react to a series of respectful letters.”

Me *twitch,* *twitch,* *SNAP!*:

STORM THE BASTILLE WITH LIKE-MINDED, PITCHFORK WIELDING COMPATRIOTS, THAT'S THE MEANS TO USE! Reason? BAH! That’s so blasé. It’s elitist of you to demand reasoned argument from the ignorant. Reason is the last refuge of scoundrels. Why, the unreasonable deserve to have their unreasoned demands fulfilled to! This is a democracy--nay, this is a mobocracy—passion, yes, whim, yes, desire, yes, reason, BEEEEEEP. Numbers count, and fervency, but not reason.

Reason won’t take you nowhere. Who’s convinced by reason anymore, anyways? What we need is the democratic will to power! Truth is just the will of the majority; or the perceived majority—enter protest, stage left. With protests we can create the illusion of the shadow of truth--and that's good enough for us!

“But what about Truth?” a voice somewhere in the back calls out, distantly, nervously.

What was that? Did you just say Truth? No way--you really did! And with a capital “T” and all? Hogwash! Bumplegumps! And how quaint, too! Dusting off Truth and taking it out of its velvet-roped exhibit at the Grand Smithsonian of Intellectual Artifacts! Be careful with that, son, you wield anachronism there! A hearty club it seems, but a club in an age of quantum-laser hyper-bazookas. Sure it feels solid in your hands, but, nowadays, take that thing out in the open and it’ll dissolve before your eyes, *poof!* drifting away, a million motes of truth-dust dispersed upward into the sky by the convecting currents of postmodern thought—pleasant against your skin, enveloping your body, tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, and always, always in constant motion, a breezy breeze.

Arguments? Nah. Arguments require Truth at the end of the labyrinth to guide us through its mazy corridors. There is no Truth! The exit to the labyrinth is bricked off! The mice have been sent in there to die.

It’s numbers, baby. That’s what we need. Create a spectacle. Create consciousness. TAKE BACK THE NIGHT! If we can only get enough people to believe the same thing, why, that’s just as good as Truth! Truth is in the eye of the beholder—so if we can get enough beholders, then, BEHOLD, Truth!

“A letter to the editor.” A letter to the editor! Ha! That sounds like the sarcastic punch-line to the modern democratic experience! “…and then the voter said *pause for effect* ‘Why, I think I’ll write a letter to the editor!’” BwaHAHAHA! "Letter"..."Editor"...Oh, my sides, they hurt!

We need change now, or we need change yesternow. No time for reasoned discourse to percolate through the public consciousness and change minds by dint of rationality. The Bastille, up ahead! Light your torches! The greatest injustice is when the greatest can’t define justice, by whim. The laws, if we change them, get them on our side, why, the people will have to agree with us. I’d like to see Truth hold that kind of influence--or reason, or argument, or *pause* “letters to the editor!” Stop, stop, you're killing me!

Embrace us, State—WE NEED YOUR MONKEY LOVE!

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So, in conclusion, protestors are generally unattractive and friendless, with a mildewy funk about them. Coffee, when ingested in large amounts, has a low- to moderate- hallucinogenic effect on the human physiology.

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