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Moment of Truth: The Astrocrats!

Welcome to the Moment of Truth, the thirst that is the drink.

On Tucker Carlson’s show, Donald Dump, the would-be dictator, or, more formally, would-be penis potato, asserted that public excretion of human waste only began when he took office. This is a man ostensibly from New York City, long known for such street fragrances. He said it in the midst of producing a muesli of nonsense phrases. The comical thing was Tucker nodding and grunting in agreement, as if to say, “Right, that’s exactly when I started pissing on the streets. I think we all did. Yeah, yeah, George Soros paid us to do it.”

And then I realized – November 9, 2016 – that is in fact the date when I took my vow of public urination and defecation. I started pooping and peeing all over my neighborhood, as if I had no respect for myself or anyone else. It’s inappropriate and disgraceful, but, like incontinent fascist Tucker Carlson, I can’t help myself.

Astrocracy: rule by the stars. Not rule by asses, that’s any rule. And not rule by astro-crock, though it is a crock of magical thinking, much like the principle that ruthless, unbridled greed will somehow benefit the many rather than just the few. And put an end to poverty, which is a sick joke on us. Capitalism requires that a visible percentage of the would-be work force be in brutal poverty. Out of one crock into another crock. Actually, it’ll be the same crock. Either way, there are thousands upon thousands of people living on the street, right here in the most wealthy and spiritually airheaded nation on Earth, and that won’t change until we somehow un-brainwash ourselves from our radical capitalist indoctrination, and of course our worship of Disney magic, which I’ll get to later.

The advent of the reality TV president has of course led, inevitably, to the appearance of the flaky New Age self-help entrepreneur/guru as prospective nominee. I’m not saying that idiot has a chance in hell of becoming president, but after 2016, hell is apparently not the worst place to locate your chances. If you’re an idiot.

Do I belittle Marianne Williamson? With her prescription of solving the world’s problems with unicorn flatulence and echinacea enemas? Oh, by all means, I do belittle her. Is it sexist for me to do so? I feel the same way about Deepak Chopra, Bikram Choudry, Tony Robbins, Dr. Oz, any number of snake-oil life coaches and faith-healers of body and soul, the whole menu of Astrotwats. The astrotwat industry does aid predatory men while it takes the money of mostly women. I don’t know why. Probably because we haven’t progressed much as a society, regarding inequality of all kinds, especially patriarchal hegemony, since back when gullible women were mocked for buying into Ouija boards, seances, Swedenborg and Mesmer. This misogynist stereotype comes down to us from the age of whalebone corsets and hasn’t altered much, if at all, on the journey.

So, yes, I think of Marianne Williamson as Lady Bracknell with a physical trainer, crystals, a laptop, a copy of “The Secret,” and an MBA. But that’s not the worst I think of her.

She’s a practitioner of über-capitalist con-artistry of the type that gave us the instant blood- sample analyzer, the Fyre Festival, Elon Musk as civic savior, Bill Gates as philanthropic saboteur of the public education system, and Steve Jobs as Jesus Christ. Not that she’s not sincere. No con artist is as effective as the one who believes her own con.

We’ve got to destroy this magical thinking. It may seem cruel, like killing Bambi or refusing to clap for Tinkerbell, but we’re only hurting ourselves by remaining in thrall to the deification of Disney. We must wean ourselves from Disney magic. It’s an opioid of the people.

It really shouldn’t be that hard. Mickey Mouse is the most generic POS character ever created. He’s nothing. He has no traits. He’s doesn’t have urges, except perhaps to get married and have a small suburban house with a white picket fence. And a dog, and a Kramer-esque friend who’s also somehow a dog. He’s got no ethnicity, and you know what that means: he’s white. He’s a white mouse in blackface. Disney invented the anodyne minstrel show. He invented racism for the millions. Racism for everyone! A racist black caricature even black people can love! Where Al Jolson failed, Mickey Mouse has triumphed.

But rationalism sure can’t save us. Human beings don’t operate rationally. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were some decent standard-bearers for the rational. Now, Harry Houdini used to go around exposing spiritualist frauds. In place of him we have Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins, two of the most disagreeable rationalists around, who can’t even escape from a safe submerged in water, much less from the chains that bind their imaginations. As much as I would love for an asteroid to arrive and crush Williamson, I’d like to crush the religion-baiting atheists personally with an anvil dropped from an upper-story window. Like a cartoon! A Disney cartoon! Hoist with your own cartoon. You Disneyland fascists. You’re all Disneyland fascists, the Swedenborgian spiritualists and the rigid rationalists alike. Worthless, worthless, adding nothing but bland minstrelsy to the public discourse.

The process by which these clowns infiltrated our political process is obvious. Not that we didn’t have clowns before, but they were a slightly better class of clown. The clowns now are clearly buying their way through the filter. The filter that is supposed to sift out the fecal particulates. Ah, that filter never worked so well, anyway. It’s just that, you were supposed to... I don’t know, let’s just scrap this system that allows clowns to rule us, and start over. Reboot.

Nancy Reagan was an Astrocrat, and she was piloting the ship of state while Reagan was sliding down the slippery slope of dementia. Steering a course by the stars. There’s something romantic in that, isn’t there? Is it really so bad to guide the ship of state by celestial signposts? Is it any worse than what we each do every day literally with our GPS? Is it any worse than voting for any other run-of-the-mill rich person, or rich person’s tool, who has no incentive to solve the problems of ecological destruction, war, poverty, persecution, and hunger? Yes and no!

We’ve always had captains who say, You can’t have this, you can’t have that. You can’t have peace. You can’t have plenty. You can’t have justice. You can’t have freedom. You can’t even have an end to slavery. The system’s endgame is to make each of us the property of someone. I’ve been watching it happen since the 70s, because I’ve only been a conscious being since then. I’m sure the process began long before I was born.

The time will come when we will have our say. We’ll say, “Captain, we don’t accept your explanation of why we can’t have these things. The founding documents promise these things. The mythos and ethos of our society promise these things. We demand them now. Not later. Now. Feed the starving. House the homeless. Stop mutilating the weak. Stop sucking all the wealth off the street. Stop thwarting democracy. Stop destroying the Earth, and your rationalizing about why we can’t save it. We don’t believe you, and we won’t stand for it. We will smash you with our asteroids and anvils unless you shape up.”

The celestials were never our friends. Ask the ancients, who really knew them. They could, with one gesture, lend you luck, and then just as capriciously snatch it away. The only surefire way to go – which the Athenians tried to do but never could – is to live by the paraphrased advice of the bumper sticker: “Stop making stupid people president!”

This has been the Moment of Truth. Good day!

Moment of Truth

 

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