The Brick Wall

Posted in Answers, Rants, Reality by waldopaper on September 25, 2013

Did it not seem real? 

“In time, even death itself might be abolished; who knows…”  –Benson

That line is usually attributed to Barry Benson around 1880, about 15 years after the big thing had gone viral.  Now there were plenty of peace-time days between his memory and that whole thing.  Army of Northern Virginia, and the set and scenes and explosions and blood: The Myth of The Civil War.  Like the toy soldiers you had as a boy, except for a brief flash you were one of the toys.  Now pushed back from the table, you let your belt out a notch and squint at the boys. And what was playing with you, sir?  It was way bigger than them poppy-corn generals. What is toying with your answer?

It was a meme, sir.  It has at blast a dozen heads.  Patriotism is one, nationalism is another… racism and sexism are  healthy in the 19th century.  The biggest one that day was “discipline” You were all veteran actors by then.  Disciplined meat obedient as you filed on together Emmitsburg Road or Baltimore Pike or wherever.  Who’s the enemy?  The audience.  Long roll dead friends and faraway girlfriends watching you perform today.  You must not blow your lines.  The opera works as a meta four to strike up a band of brigands flaming patriotism and nationalism all the way to the next helping of stuffing.

You can keep it real but you can not make it real.  Today the opera seems more real than it was for the actors who were there.  Billionaire psychopaths pay for scripts and costumes and get boondoggled by The Producers  writing Springtime for Hitler.  The Boys keep it real “…far beyond our poor power to add or detract.”  Lincoln was not at the opera either and might not have even heard the fat lady sing.  But we lost something in the translation of “a new birth of freedom.”  Maybe “the last old war” works better today as a “…narrative rendering that discerns…lessons in the midst of…incomprehensible and terrifying…events.”

Screech up on one old haunch and blow the last post and hope it does not kill all the grand-kids.  Momma is hip to the pip fapping traps playing Taps on Thanksgiving dinner.  Opera is texting and screening tonight on the old camp ground and some day we may have a winner.  Meanwhile you bet the stage is set and plot gets thinner and thinner.  Dam woman be thankful and not let us spray have mercy on me a spinner.  Take a look at through the eye of a meme and see what may have kept us blind for so long.  We may becoming prepared to give peace a chance.  Old song.  New dance.

new ideal emerges from history like sponge-bob square-pants.


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