The Gods Of The Copybook Headings

Until you unplug succeeding generations from default auto-Leftardism, you aren't going to have anything to look forward to but terror and slaughter. You'll just keep feeding more of them to the volcano, and there'll be less of you.

You can't merely prune the beast back. You've got to starve it, then kill it, and hunt down its keepers and breeders.

And not just figuratively.

There's no shortcut, but there are certainly consequences to letting things get this far gone, and the Gods Of The Copybook Headings will have their due, paid in full, and with interest.

"Politics is downstream from culture."

That means you're going to have to march back through all those institutions you've cheerfully abandoned for 50-100 years, and re-take them, school by school, university by university, broadcast station by broadcast station, newspaper by newspaper, book by book, publisher by publisher, movie studio by movie studio. Or bury them with competition, and drown them for lack of support.

All that, just to get to a place where you can grow a political system that works as it was intended, and requires only the normal amount of attention - every waking moment - to keep from turning into a totalitarian's dream.

It took 100-150 years to get you here (speaking just of the U.S.), and there will be no quick fix getting back.

Every jackass thinks they can simply shoot their way to victory, if we just pile the bodies high enough. This is how you know they're jackasses.

How's that worked for you to date?

You'll probably get the shooting you think you want before this is over, but it won't be what you thought, and you won't like it when you get it.

That pisses the simpletons off, routinely. This is how you know they're simpletons.

Progressivism postulated that man was perfectible.
It begat World War I.
Then it told us that class was the problem, materialism was the disease, and socialism was the cure.
That begat World War II and the Cold War, and 100 million or so dead bodies worldwide, mostly by their own socialist governments. Warfare itself was a minor fraction of that total.

So now you think you're going to fix things with a bigger apocalypse?
Best wishes, idiot.

The cold, hard truth is that you're going to have take a flamethrower to the socialism strangling this country, and then do the same thing everywhere else it's being tried, just to get back to having only the ages-old problem of tyranny vs. freedom to contend with.

You've invited a dragon to live in your house, and the only way to get rid of it is to do battle with it, yes, but that will be a battle in your own house, amongst your own furniture and possessions.

And first, you're going to have to stop feeding it, and go after the people that bring it snacks when you aren't paying attention. Those snacks tend to be their children, and then your own.

Eventually, if you can even manage that little, they'll get upset with you, and the dragon will get cross, and you'll have your battle.

But if you don't undo what's sustaining the problem, you'll have a poor outcome.
That's why you unplug the device before you work on it.
It's why you take your shirt off before you iron it.

 

At least, that's how you do it for those of you who learned how to read and write.

Because evidently, there's no comic book Common Core version of this truth, it didn't get made into a video game, and it takes more than 160 characters to express, which cuts out most of the current generations from accessing it.:

AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race, I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."  

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."  

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."  

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn, The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!