Attack of the ImperiaLiberals [View All]

Months away from the Democratic convention, the miniscule but variously dutiful, zealous, or desperate segment of the US public that participates in the American political process finds itself in the possession of an unwieldy item known as a "presumptive nominee."

So the ImperiaLiberals are out in force. They are out to tell you strenly that you better get in line, wheedle at you about unity, inform you in brisk, clipped tones that all the candidates of either party have always been Imperialists, and in a thousand and one ways more or less "chilling," to use the word of the moment, dispose for once and for all of any notions anyone might have had that the American people might be interested in exercising their constitutional power to change their government, considering that the "we didn't know"s of other reigns of horror are no longer available, thanks to Al Gore's thoughtfully having invented the internet.

Their mission is to obliterate any vestige of hope you might have had, that maybe just this once, the American voters, not the politicians, or the generals, or the captains of the population reduction and auxillary industries, but the voters, might listen to all those voices whispering, shouting, pleading, warning:

"Lay the burden down NOW"

Does America have nothing better to do? It's OWN children are hungry, and hungry they will stay as The Land of the Free pours the children's food into the continuing crusade to find in far off lands, the most despicable sell-his-mama for-a-dollar scumbag to install as a "leader" and the most depraved psychotic wretches to slip a little somepm somepm under the table to create "instability" for which the only remedy is a good solid dose of Occupation Syrup and a few hefty contracts to sell the Family Size Pack of the somepm somepm.

Born of genocide, suckled on slavery and weaned on apartheid, it is perhaps unrealistic to suppose that the United States, were it a character in a novel, have a happpy fate. Such a monster would of course meet a decidedly unpleasant end, and be buried on a dark, grey day, mourned only by a handful of forlorn General Dynamics executives.

Why then, beat the hearts of some of the less ardent ImperiaLiberals, would you want to save it?

lifeaftertheoilcrash.net will take you on a journey round the graphs and charts that say maybe 15 years, maybe a little less, a little more.

A decade, maybe a little more, sounds like an eternity to a young person, thirtysomethings in their comfortable homes, food in the fridge, money in the bank, an occasional bird chirp breaking the suburban quiet, but older folks will tell you that a a souped-up Lamberghini ain't got nothing on decade, even a little more when it comes to the speed with which it can zip by, and depending on where they've been, and what they've seen, they can also tell you about the paradox of apocalypse: the picture postcard street doesn't turn into an abbatoir, or an inferno, or both, overnight, yet it does.

Gradualists, adherents to a popular tenet of ImperiaLiberalism, will be able to appreciate that. It's about baby steps. Not the one forward and 3 back and build a brick wall in front of the baby that forms the standard approach to the US providing health care for its citizens, for example, but the stealthy inexorable baby steps of pathenogenic organisms, of putrefication, of necrotizing fascitis, of facsism.

These baby steps reach their destination, enabled by the helping hand of apathy, the swift push of greed, ask around. Ask Iraq, Iran. Ask Palestine, Afghanistan. Ask Africa, if you dare.

Drop now in shame the proud heads of the ImperiaLiberals. Just let it happen then, maybe they breathe, or it could be the wind. They do spend a lot of time in political circles, they are bound to have wind. What's to save?

Not the reality of America. Not the brutal inhuman reign of greed, but the idea.

The bill of goods that American children are sold from infancy, that some continue to cling to like a tattered blanket well into adulthood, into old age, to their graves.

Langston Hughes said it best:

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!


There are months before the convention.

They may be the last months you have to change your government.