BEFORE THE ARCHITECT
– BACKGROUND
AMERICAN THOUGHT AT THE GRANITE KNEE OF LIFE EXPERIENCE - OTHERS AND MINE
He shall cover thee with his feathers and under his wings shalt thou trust . . . Psalm 91:4. He did in the Spring of '08; I do. Before The Architect
Self-sculpture . . .
AMERICAN THOUGHT - INTRODUCTION
On this webpage, the website author's American thoughts while recently strolling down Liberty Lane.
There are excerpted quotes from his latest e-article "The Tipping Point on the Road to Amarabia?" when you scroll down a little and the article itself in .pdf.
. . . . . . .
Change can be
that which you didn’t expect and it does happen. And you’re betrayed . . .
. . . and, then, angered.
. . . . . . .
Here are some quotes from the e-article "American Pitchfork Manifesto: Tipping Point on the Road to Amarabia? - A Fictional Retrospective From the Great Beyond" by Pitchfork
You may freely quote Pitchfork with attribution
"Life's tough......It's even tougher if you're stupid." John Wayne
Table of Contents
“À la recherche du temps perdu.” Marcel Proust
Part 1: Was there a tipping point in Amerika’s decline through socialism and into Amarabia?
Part 2: When would American Howard Beales have bellowed: "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not going to take this anymore!!"?
Part 3: What would have made it so?
Part 4: Who would have made it so?
Part 5: What would have been made of it?
. . . . . . .
AN INTRODUCTORY POEM
[Chorus to 20 stanza]
It’s my story,
Stickin’ to it.
Reachin’ back to
Help ‘em through it.
Had a dream,
Wasn’t pretty,
About my country -
Hungry kitty.
Burning plain,
Suffering city, in
My rearview mirror.
More’s the pity.
Trespass on
A nation’s soul.
Goliath stands
Above them all.
Takes a rock,
Trips, and falls.
In full cry,
Hear clarion calls?
Swear I saw
A magic wand,
Driving on in
The Great Beyond.
. . . . . . .
From the Great Beyond, Pitchfork had been forbidden to give away moments in American history, assuming those moments ever could have been. Who knew? But he had been OK’d to discuss some of his opinions about whassup with this fiction in distanced past tenses. Rules is rules, especially when it ain’t over when it’s over. Gotta keep it between the lines, don’t you know? Looking back, the view was special, though there was more to have imagined than had met minds’ eyes from Beyond Town.
. . . . . . .
The weaker had been Amerika’s faithful, conservative, capitalist, Constitutional resolve, and the lesser its resources, the swifter would have been the sally past Lady Liberty, tripping down freedom’s hills on the road through socialism and could have been on downward still into Amarabia, an empire the other side of paganville. Who would have known back then?
. . . . . . .
Yes, there was always a tipping point. It was the human condition: nothing earthly may have seemed to last forever, except godless, existential uncertainty. A tipping point should not have been an ‘if’ consideration, it was for-sure; the consideration would have been as to ‘when’.
. . . . . . .
Having set aside the truly needy and due, simply, about half of Amerikans – the parasite class – were on the other half’s tab – ill-informed, poorly educated, culturally crippled, self-absorbed, and in denial about individual responsibility – take your pick – expecting the ‘change’ would have been whatever each wanted. About another half – the host class – paid all the bills, was ill-informed, poorly educated, culturally crippled, self-absorbed, and in denial about individual irresponsibility – take your pick – expecting the ‘change’ would not have changed so much to matter to each of them – it would all go away someday. These things take care of themselves, right?
Those were two silent near-majorities. Neither saw the early signs of societal suicide by socialism and the Amerikan Jihad’s Evil Reformation.
Then, only a thin minority was putting up a stink or on the brink; whereas, less than a year earlier a thick minority had nearly kicked virulent socialism and worse to the curb to check the imbalance.
. . . . . . .
In good times, folks tended to forget the bad times. In bad times, folks tended to forget way more. There have always been despots behind doors, peaking, waiting, knowing that you’ll want them and welcome them again. Don’t think it; just do it. Right? Pitchfork
. . . . . . .
In the wind, it was change of the fourth kind, of the fourth form, when real, palpable, on your carpet and in your face change was not expected and did happen. That was betrayal; it threatened, then angered for defense, coping, remedy, or retribution.
. . . . . . .
It was sooner or later, the maddening. It was when change of the fourth form, of unexpected change – ranted or real - was foreseen and feared or realized and resisted in consequences and consequences of consequences, and when denial didn’t do it anymore.
For the tipping point – the fear, the resistance must have resonated; unbearable, meaningless suffering must have been personal and shared by recognizable majorities.
. . . . . . .
A popularity contest of dilemmas, guilts, and bigotries had started the Evil Reformation full tilt. Would it have been an unpopularity contest of betrayal and threat, of fear and resistance that ended it?
. . . . . . .
Socialism must blind morality – individual judgment of good and evil, of right and wrong - and morality’s source, socialism’s antagonist – religion – and morality’s use – individual virtue – by amoral subjugation to the governing. One-on-one, individual sovereignty had been anathema to coerced equality, as state sovereignty had been anathema to federal socialism. Pitchfork
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This would have been about a fundamental uncertainty – Whose money was it, anyway? Is all the money really yours? Do you think that all the money is really yours? Do you think that what you don’t need right now is what’s left to me? How was value to have been judged? What was left of determinate, compelled, assured, expressed freedoms to act?
. . . . . . .
They all knew the ways to carry the days and were eschewed every one, of nefarious necessity. This was not about God, family, or country. Pitchfork
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Yes, The-Corrupter and his law-and-order-crippling, capitalism-killing cronies knew that getting away with murder and more meant not getting caught. Ariba. Ariba.
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Divided Amerikans could sum or succumb.
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In another sense, the strategy – divide and not be conquered – was a setup for socialism. The more divisions of society, its cultures, the greater likely to have confected class wars, the less likely that federal abuses would have made for majorities of discontent, the greater likely that federal control, print, tax, and squander could have been targeted for abuse and advantage. Albeit, The-Misogynist-Of-Lady-Liberty did not conjure this cunning corruption, only bettered it.
. . . . . . .
What of the tipping?
Depended. Depended on how fast the tipping. Depended on how far the tipping. Depended on means and methods. Depended on things sure. Depended on things unsure. Depended on the unforeseen and unforeseeable. Depended.
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If ‘paddy-cake, paddy-cake, baker’s man’ was to have been the theme of get-togethers and, later, ‘let’s do lunch,’ then, no matter how many reveled at rebellion, the self-satisfaction from having participated in the party-going had better to have been satisfaction enough. Manic monsters dedicated to destroying capitalism and the rest of the American Way could have shut and shuttered their windows while they worked it out. Party on.
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There was one wild card: What would have been the force the governing brought to bear on its own, again, bigtime? Would the governing stop at nothing?
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The author, as seen by himself . . .
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