Grass Valley Report

Words like ‘entropy’ and ‘the anthropic principle’ suspense us with ‘event horizons’ where we observe (with no control) the vanities of old white men who have closed every door, sung every song and leveled every benchmark so that imitation can proceed without the slightest hint of qualitative differentiation.

It’s bread and circuses now and loathsome venality absorbs what is left with a craft unthinkable in the darkest times. A collective so unconscious that the technique that serves the benefit of the whole would best be described as waste management.

Meanwhile, collateral damage takes out chunks of humanity and the stench of the dead somehow lingers, as attempts to sensor the wind have proven futile.

The burlesque of legitimacy preens Sunday warriors with gospel promises and favors are granted to those who cannot name the next county let alone a nation’s place amidst the world.

It’s a stupefying triumph heralded by a Marine recruiter that flags a contract that promises to educate someone who has demonstrated the ethics of slaughter. ‘Just survive this’ and our universities will assure you a place on the 18th hole right there with the movers and the shakers.

How long will it take you to learn that the enemy couldn’t have pissed across the street, let alone sent a missle to target your country home where you couldn’t find work; where you couldn’t know enough to know what a mistake you’ve made by taking another’s life in the name of God?

Imagine just sitting back doing margaritas and remembering all those innocent faces you lit up for Exxon.