Privilege

Privilege. It originally meant “private law.” You call the police when you need them, otherwise they have no business with you. Go away officer, I did not summon you. This is my  cocaine and laundered money, you silly twat; stop acting like you have found some low-life criminal.

There are two authors who are integral to my world view. Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams. Men who have scaled the heights that Wittgenstein, Freud, Elliot and Einstein could only aspire to. The grand masters of thought. Their thoughts infest this post.

The winter of dissolution has struck in  Gaza. The human spirit is dying. Many are beyond anger, beyond desperation and depression. There are wraiths walking the land now and we can only pray that there will be a judgement day. I do hope that prayers are still being said, even there. I cannot imagine speaking to my daughter-sister-mother woman from 3000 miles away while hearing bombs bursting in the background. No wait, I can. The monster in me can imagine that. The hungry monster tastes dark red revenge as he imagines that. Blood price. Sacrifice.

Justice and injustice. Tricksy words. Words with roots in Norman conquest. Words that place principle before people. I prefer right and wrong. Even “blut und eisen” are more honest. “Not through speeches and majority decisions will the great questions of the day be decided … but by iron and blood.”

As  long as you keep your eyes fixed only on the heavens. As long as you only aspire, As long as you only look to who you want to be, you will never be a part of humanity.

Look to the gutters instead of the stars. Smell the corpses instead of the roses. Taste the ashes of defeat if you want to make a difference to this world. If you only want to make a difference in this world, carry on. I have no words for you.

The human heart can carry the guilt of a thousand Khans as long as it does not care. There is no limit to indifference if you choose it as your path. There is no need to care unless you truly understand that the world can be better than it is. If you have a salary and a career path, I do not understand why you would.

“Love your neighbor.” A trite truism for the rich, but essential to those stuck in a gory land of hopelessness.

“Love yourself” scream the self help books of the 21st century, apologists for the cult of Narcissus.

Love is hard work, say I. Boring mundane, awful hard work. Don’t do it unless you feel up to it. Cowards need not apply for the option of changing the world.

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