[A wispy scent of parody is a precursor…]
Gosh, y’know what? You’re right.
[…to a hailstorm of invective satire.]
I can’t imagine what I’ve been thinking for these past several years. This mighty weight upon my shoulders, that I mistook for tyranny, is in reality my safeguard nanny. The overlapping folds of flab around my neck are her protective thighs. The stagnant stench from her crotch bacteria is my secure assurance that she’s there.
Surely, the notion of enforcing noncoercion fails because if I find myself on foreign soil or in the clutches of a lunatic, I will have no fat bitch on my back to insulate me. If I am free from the coercion and fraud of others, God only knows what mischief I might conjure up. Perhaps I’ll go and raid my neighbors, steal their bread, manufacture children like jugs of moonshine, children that I can’t afford to have, sacrificial children for all the fat nannies in waiting.
Surely in Libertaria, I can assume that children have no rights, and neither do my neighbors, right?
Oh, woe is me for my myopia!
So long as I am draped in the oozing corpulence of my fat nanny, I can go to Teheran and steal bread! I can go to Tiajuana, hawk some drugs beside the nose-picking tortilla makers, and never worry that I might disappear into the bowels of a Mexican prison while the American embassy expresses its sympathy — and its impotency — to my desparate family.
Hell, with this bitch riding me I can stomp on the rights of people everywhere, like a hippo on speed in a forest full of campfires, and no one will touch me! Because see, other places don’t have their own laws, not here in the real world. And here in the real world, I can’t stumble onto a place where I don’t know all the laws and the personality profiles of everybody who lives there, because here in the real world, I already know all these things! I know every law of every town of every county of every province of every nation-state! And I know every hapless fucker living in them!
That’s what’s so scary to me about libertarianism — I might lose my omniscience.
But that’s what makes our system work. It’s complicated like the real world, a world we did not make for ourselves, a magical mystical world that was put here for us to endure “as is”, like a cheap warranty on a used car. We can’t change the world any more than a cog can change a gearbox. The world has ust always been exactly this way.
Well, I feel better now that I’ve given up my blasphemy. Freedom? It was quaint two-hundred years ago, but hey, we’re enlightened these days, right? … Oops, gotta hurry. Springer’s on in fifteen minutes.
As I think of it, surely someone you’ve elected knows what’s better for me than I do. And if they live a thousand miles away from me, in a social setting vastly different from my own, why hell, so much the better! Gore, Bradley, Bush, McCain, these guys — they and their sycophants live to serve me. They feed my fat nanny so she can squeeze her thighs and pop something useful out of me, something useful for society.
Like Emperor Kennedy said, “Ask not what The State can do for you. Ask what you can do for The State.”
Yeah, those libertarians ain’t gonna fool me no more. Our system ain’t perfect yet, but it just gets better all the time. School kids now are safer than they’ve ever been, and corruption seems almost vestigial these days. Y’know, when I lost my home to asset forfeiture because my garage tenant sold a bag of pot to an undercover officer, I should have stopped then to consider this was really our system at its finest. Thanks to the DEA’s auction of my property, there’ll be enough money now to buy some pens and paper for the bureaucrats, and maybe a few well deserved perks for their politician bosses.
Whoa, dude, gotta go now fer sure! My fat nanny’s squeezin’ on my neck pretty hard. I think she needs to pee.