Plague Journal, All In A Dream
It is Monday morning, just three days before Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving will be a needed respite.
The Kyle Rittenhouse verdict has been on the minds of many. I am no exception. I have thought about the trial and the verdict well enough. I wish this were a dream or better put, a nightmare from which all of us could awaken. I wish that two young men, from all accounts of their lives, unfortunate, were not lying now in a coffin, in a graveyard. I wish that a third were not maimed for life, I wish that a 17 year old male, no doubt primed by “news” on Facebook, had not thought felt that marching down a Kenosha street after nightfall with an assault rifle was the righteous thing to do. Then there was the trial, surreal, Kafkaesque, many elements of which I wish could have been different.
In this case, to fantasize about justice, about the rule of law, about a court system upon which satisfactory outcomes arise from a jury of twelve citizens — is a waste of precious time.
So, I offer this Neal Young tune, a video of a majestic performance in 1993. The time is late, and it is After The Gold Rush. We Americans have always thought of ourselves as the chosen ones. … We are not.
After The Goldrush
By Neal Young
Well, I dreamed I saw the knights in armor coming,
Saying something about a queen.
There were peasants singing and drummers drumming,
And the archer split the tree.
There was a fanfare blowing to the sun
That was floating on the breeze.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the in the Twentieth Century.
Look at Mother Nature on the run
In the in the Twentieth Century.
I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes.
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst through the sky.
There was a band playing in my head,
And I felt like getting high.
I was thinking about what a friend had said.
I was hoping it was a lie.
Thinking about what a friend had said.
I was hoping it was a lie.
Well, I dreamed I saw the silver space ships flying
In the yellow haze of the sun.
There were children crying and colors flying
All around the chosen ones.
All in a dream, all in a dream
The loading had begun.
Flying Mother Nature’s silver seed to a new home in the sun.
Flying Mother Nature’s silver seed to a new home.
4 thoughts on “Plague Journal, All In A Dream”
“Ever since the Cognitive Revolution, Sapiens have thus been living in a dual reality. On the one hand, the objective reality of rivers, trees and lions; and on the other hand, the imagined reality of gods, nations and corporations. As time went by, the imagined reality became ever more powerful, so that today the very survival of rivers, trees and lions depends on the grace of imagined entities such as the United States and Google.”
― Yuval Noah Harari, quote from Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind
We live our myths. The myths evolve; sometimes converging humanity to a common cultural belief. Often fracturing humanity. Whatever takes place in objective reality, such as angry young men facing off to do battle in a Kenosha parking lot, becomes recast to support whatever myths we hold. Both sides become Heroes.
The Minataur and Medusa really got the short end of the stick. As did Nancy’s Bull and (very likely also, once the litigation settles) Joe Blow.
Justice through the Courts, property rights, unalienable human rights, are all myths. Myths are not inherently bad; at least they aren’t until they spawn conflicting myths.
Maria Victoria correctly pointed out that both Odysius and Achiles attempted to avoid going off to war in Troy. How well did that work out for either of them?
What I do not like about posting on Jerry’s blog:
All white-space is deleted, mushing all the thoughts together.