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Monday, June 29, 2009

Dirty Rotten Varmint

In olden days, punks debated with scrivers. Anyone could challenge.
We were always vermin. The thing about being vermin is that sometimes
you can recognize when a dirty rotten varmint is a peer. He commented.
So he gets his time in the Blade. You're all qualified to do it too. So Choose.
Apotheosis? Lake? Chain Gang? Guy? Johnny? Tell him about the Blade.

EXO-PUNK. The "cap-and-trade" bill, whether it is passed or not, will be extremely successful at achieving its purpose. Which has absolutely nothing to do with what is written in the bill.

The Punks and the Instapunk commenters tend to be realists. Well, okay, we may believe in an ideology and hold to a personal creed, but our eyeglass prescriptions are reasonably up-to-date. We know the difference between fantasy and reality.

The political class in the Western world doesn't care a fig for reality. And it is a social class, which includes not just the entire political establishment proper but also the university systems, public schools, the Hollywood entertainment industry and the rest of the MSM (including, yes, even Fox News.) It's a separate social class just as the Roman senate became a social class, so completely removed from what was actually happening in the Republic that the republican government was allowed to vanish and Caesar elevated to supreme dictatorship on the wings of a plebeian uprising. (One might argue that under certain emperors Rome was actually much more "republican" in virtue than under the pampered and inchoate Senate. Not, of course, that any of us would support a military coup in the United States, because that would of course be much worse than the idiots who have controlled the government in living memory. Right? Right?)

So. End of digression.

The cap-and-trade bill is a playing card in a great big fantasy game. It is not meant to have an "effect". Its very existence provides the intended effect, because it helps add color to the fantasy world in which a large number of Westerners live. Merely by spreading the idea of something like a cap-and-trade bill they succeed in wallpapering the empty rooms of philosophy they inhabit, secure in the knowledge that if only [fill in the blank with the latest sociopolitical trend] succeeds then Earth, 2009 will be followed by a Rousseauian paradise in which the evil pollution of humanity will be gone, except for the deserving few who will all get laid regularly, and will get along in perfect harmony, except that all the brown people will of course voluntarily stay on their side of paradise (or if they are brown, vice versa.) (Many non-Westerners also live in a fantasy world, it's just not the same one. At least bin Laden's fantasy has the benefit of being loosely based on a fantasized ideal of the height of the Ottoman Empire.)

The utopian world of the American Left has never existed anywhere ever. It doesn't matter that [blank] won't actually succeed in ushering in the first days of the unending utopia, because of course any such failure is not because paradise without the presence of a benevolent Creator is an oxymoron (no, of course not) but because of the evil [fill in the blank - capitalists, soldiers, Instapunk, orcs...] who must be defeated by the forces of Light in order for the new atheist paradise to become a reality. The "cap-and-trade" bill is a dice roll in a giant ongoing game of dungeons and dragons. The point is not to _win_: the point is that the "good guys" fight orcs (capitalists. whatever.) So long as they are fighting orcs they do not have to face the reality that they are just playing a game and the world is never going to look like Rivendell.

And of course the fantasy game is unending, since they make it up as they go along. Isn't it fun.

This is why, much as the kind of curmudgeonly front-porch sociopolitical stick-shaking seen in this post is necessary to provide perspective for those of us who do try to keep our fantasies separate from reality, I greatly prefer the Punk posts about important things. Like, say, Sinatra. The wonderful thing about living life in the real world is that reality is inhabited by wonderful, beautiful mysteries which far surpass anything Al Gore's speechwriters can think up.

IP SAYS: Yeah, DRV's a punk. He can write. Does he want to post? Or is he just a one-time tantrum? The Blade is filled with the bodies of punks who had one great explosion. Maybe he should write Instapunk@gmail.com for instructions on how to post here. Didn't you know? Any punk can post here. As long as he can withstand the slaughter we call editing. You too, JS.

And, uh, the editing isn't about censorship. It's about grammar, spelling, diction, and logic. Can you write as well as DRV? Or Brizoni? Then join the front lines of InstaPunk and take your chances. Brizoni will tell you how easy it is.

UPDATE. DRV already has a fan -- and an estimable one at that. Congratulations, you dirty old varmint you.







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