The American Mystique

It was Winston Churchill who said:

You have enemies? Good.

That means you’ve stood up for something, sometime in your life.

 

Well, I stand up for America and its people.

I stand up for bringing America into the Twenty-First Century, on par or better in quality of life as the other industrialized and post-industrialized nations on earth.

And therein lies the rub.

We have, as a society, stagnated to the point where the rest of the world has passed us by in what they give back to their constituents.

We are currently a charade. Under a veneer of First World luxury and modernity, the America of 2017 is a rotted wooden construct of selfishness, greed, toxic machismo, bigotry, ancient hatreds, and Twentieth Century patches on Nineteenth Century problems that the regressives in this country want to do away with altogether.

Yes, there are Americans of good will, but many of them embrace this rotten status quo. And then there is a silent majority of Americans who are of ill will, people who want us to regress in society so far that we live in a wasteland where it’s every man, woman, and child for themselves, and everyone else be damned.

Good people either embrace the status quo or embrace regression, because of the enchantment of a “mystique” that has been cast by those at the apex of the moneyed class so that they can get more and more for themselves, and have less and less for you.

The American mystique is the same as the fantasy of the casino. Hard working people, people of modest means, flock to the gaming tables and the slots with the hope that just one more bet will be the answer to their problems. But the house, the casino owners, the pit bosses, and the dealers all know that the odds are heavily against you, even in the fairest game. You play cards, and they play you. Your chance of winning is a mere illusion, and the casino owners take that to the bank every night.

But the house, the casino owners, the pit bosses, and the dealers all know that the odds are heavily against you, even in the fairest game. You play cards, and they play you. Your chance of winning is a mere illusion, and the casino owners take that to the bank every night.

Americans of modest means have fallen for this enchantment, this delusion, (I call it the Secret of My Success fantasy), that if they work hard and play it smart, soon they will ascend to the ranks of the well-off moneyed class.

But the owners of the American Casino, their elected pit bosses, and their pundit dealers know that you have no chance. They feed you fantasies of rugged individualism and the free market to make you sit at the table and keep betting and betting until you’ve lost everything. And they take that to the bank every night.

They have you vehemently fighting against your own interests.

They make you hate because they hate.

They hate anyone who wants to attempt a more leveled playing field.

Therefore, in the spirit of Franklin Roosevelt, I WELCOME THEIR HATRED.

 

© 2017, A. A. Spett.

 

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