So You Want to be a Revolutionary

WITHOUT COMMON SENSE

by OPOVV, ©2013

(Oct. 20, 2013) — So you want to be a revolutionary, now isn’t that just hunky-dory? Maybe you liked calculus so you decide to be a machinist and make helix gears, or maybe Euclid was your thing and you became a watchmaker, perhaps repairing the mechanisms for long-case clocks. A person who likes animals may want to be a veterinarian or zookeeper. Maybe you think that physical work is not your thing; maybe collecting money is, so you work in whatever it takes to make a stash. The point is, in the America of yesterday, the opportunities to fulfill your dreams were endless, and that’s a good thing, because people’s needs, wants, and desires may change through time.

Here’s a for-instance: when I was a young man I’d spend hours designing my own super stereo system, 30” bass woofer, crossovers galore, cooling fans, each individual speaker with its own amplifier and pre-amp. And then I had to design the room to house my dynamite multi-channel hi-fi sound system, then the house, then the lot, the land, until I had an island with a ten-foot wall, moat, drawbridge, towers, dungeon, kingdom and serfs. Nowadays I have a $100 CD player with detachable speakers and, all I really needed from the get-go:  my guitar, and that’s it. It’s true that I have a portable amp and electric guitar, but that’s for playing Hendrix.

The America of yesterday had common sense, that is, until “political correctness” took over, which is another way of saying left-wing agenda shoved down your throat. “Gay marriage,” give me a break. “Gays in the military.” Hello? Am I the only one left on the planet who doesn’t see the hypocrisy of it all? A “marriage” is two things adjoining that produces a third thing, like a nut and bolt. You have a bolt, you put it through a hole and torque the nut to specifications and, Viola!, a fastener is born. You have a “Gay” this and a “Gay” that, and you still end up with a “this” and “that;” nothing’s changed.

But reality is even weirder than the “Gay” thing. You’re a little kid, and you have a bunch of little kid friends. You all like to play in the sandbox, and isn’t it interesting to watch how each child manipulates their three-dimensional slate, or, in our example, sand.

Jane likes to smooth her piece of real estate and design the perfect kitchen; Dave likes to dig holes; Molly takes Dave’s unwanted sand and builds walls; and you like to build roads but become frustrated because what started out as the perfect replica of the Indy 500 is too constraining for your hidden road building talents: you must expand or perish, so you think.

You demand that the others “reduce” their 25% of the available land and give it to you, so you end up with it all and are free to build your roads anywhere you please. You soon realize that your roads go nowhere. What started out as a freeway to Jane’s perfect kitchen now has nothing there but empty sand. Your road to Dave’s quarries is the same, and Molly’s walls have been flattened, erased by the sands of time, and you’re to blame.

You have roads to nowhere, but at least you got your way. There will be no improved housing in the future, for Jane isn’t allowed to design; there will be no safer, and deeper, mines, maybe in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, because Dave can’t dig; no new, better, improved boundary markers because Molly was denied her right to build walls; and you, you’re right back where you started from, no improvement whatsoever, just building roads to nowhere, just going around in circles. You managed to destroy the very thing, the very system that gave you choices in the first place. You did it all: you became an Obot.

Obot: destroyer of the very system which allowed one to become an Obot in the first place. A revolutionary who destroyed future generations from doing the same. Selfish; self-centered. Not caring about one’s country or its Constitution. An enemy of America, an enemy of us all, killing the very system that gave them life, just as a parasite eats its host and when it finally kills the host, it too dies. Now, I ask you, where’s the common sense of that?

OPOVV