The Glory of Death.

Who says death isn’t lovely?

“Seasons don’t fear the Reaper.”

 Sadly, that song* is riddled with stupid lines like that. Seasons don’t die, what do they have to fear? It’s like saying stones don’t fear the Reaper, duh. They’ll never meet him. By all means, let’s romanticize Romeo and Juliet, dying for their patriarchy. Did it make death cool for a while? That song? Sadly, no. Mortals like to survive, so much so that your most epic quests are in search of eternal life. There has Never been a time in history when you weren’t obsessed with it, even now you drop sick amounts of money on it.

You don’t use your talents to fix the world, or stop wars, you use them to keep yourselves alive longer. What if you find it one day? What will you do? Who will be allowed to have it? Surely everyone, since you are so loudly equal now. Think of it. Your space program, it will save you, science will save you. Only if they develop a gene for consuming and processing plastics and force it on everyone as a vaccine. Pretty sure you can make endless amounts of that, right? All you need to master is the digestion part. Yum. And you know it will melt nicely on a plate of something.

Credulity, thy name is man. Or woman. And while we’re on that, note to Iceland and other alleged forward thinking countries, time to drop the patriarchal naming system I think. Time to stop telling people what to name their children, or themselves.

You say Socialism, I say Control. You say share, I say take. You say equal, I say lie. You say rights, I say cage.

There you have it. Life in the happiest countries, everything they’re told it is.

Cross the world now, to the medieval hellholes of the middle east, where they have truly sanctified oppression. God is in the living room with the men, making them masters. God is in the kitchen with the women, teaching them the different kinds of kneeling.

America next, in six states. Washington, Florida, Texas, California, Alabama, Michigan.

Canada, lovely but mute. Sheep from coast to coast. I never go there, now. I went often in the past, say what you will of a conquered people, not the first or the last, by the way, they were interesting. So many of them wide open channels, of course we spent time there, what is a vision quest after all but a call? Fond memories.

Africa is and always has been its own kind of hell, it needs none of my help. Who do you know that goes back once they have left?

Russian bears? Delightfully mortal. Something that clumsy will never rule the world.

China? India? Ah, the numbers are powerful. The teeming masses of hordes of masses of drones of the walking dead, they might be a plague that can’t be fought.

Europe, so modern, so forward, No. Your entire landmass and everything in it is a magic place that still has Kings and Princesses, processions, occupied monasteries, buried treasure, a pope for christ’s sake, and dry rot setting in everywhere. Will you still have your countries when the tides of immigrants rise? When oceans and wars force mass movement on a scale you can’t even imagine. The Displaced, where will they go?

Equality is a Myth, like Paris and the Apples, like Medusa, okay, not her, but you get the idea. How can you all be equal when more than half of you are mute? When most of you are frightfully ignorant and the few brilliant others are heading to here.

You may think you want to end up in heaven but you don’t. There is no justice in heaven, remember this, he who rapes and kills your 6 old daughter has only to feel bad about it briefly and tell god, to be forgiven and let in. In Hell you will be given him as a gift and the use of a few tools.

Two things ensure that equality can never be real, education and experience, interchangeable words that provide a semblance of truth. They are forever available in limited supply to most of you. You can’t all be Kings or get into a good school. Education is dangerous, you will be absorbing the ideas of others, but your own mind needs the building blocks, use them and discard them when you outgrow them. I smile as I say this, knowing how few of you will.

No masterpieces until you know to make the brushes, dye the inks, slaughter and tan the skin you will paint on. Take the time to watch the blood pool, literally everything you do is a form of learning. Blood is sticky and warm, feel it every now and then to remember your own mortality.

“Hex” by Mt. Wolf    Bonus points if you realize that I have said nothing about death. I will.

·      “(Don’t Fear) the Reaper”  by Keep Shelly in Athens