Brute force and lying. Am I missing anything? I'm trying to list all the skills that make the powers that be the powers that be. I think that brute force and lying are the sum contents of their toolkit: every ancient and modern structure of power, no matter how sophisticated, has been gained and maintained by way of this twosome. It's just that simple.
Am I wrong? Is there an example of any power that became powerful any other way? I wish that God were real, so that he could tell me the answer to this.
God himself is a good example, come to think of it. — By that term "God", I mean not only the supposed entity but also the way that the concept is bandied about. — For the literary character God achieved his own power via brute force (that is, he stole it from his father) and then lied to maintain it: Consider the besting of Ouranos by Kronos and then Kronos by Zeus... or Lucifer by Jehovah and then Jehovah by Jesus.
Even when we think that we have found an upright MORAL & ETHICAL POWER, like modernity's Big Oil Cartel, once we begin to look into its history, we find that it came into being by murdering its predecessor, the Horse-&-Buggy Industry; and that Big Oil maintains its reign by constantly lying about the fate of its rightful successor — its own biological child, who keeps getting born again: Yes, every time the Ultramagnetic Flying Car emerges from the uterus of Big Oil's consort, Big Oil eats it; the Cartel devours its own would-be heir — literally, it swallows the vehicle down its thrice-great gullet, and the thwarted upstart must spend the next eon amid the flames of its forebear's tartarean stomach.
And consider how the train-robbing gangsters of olden times, also known as the Roman Oligarchs, snuggled into their cocoon called the Vatican and endured being regime-changed into the British Mafia; then ended up as the modern C.I.A. — Tho it's true that this latter outfit has almost managed to do away with the habit of lying, thus downsizing its dual-piece toolkit into a onesie, it still does lie from time to time.
And if you think the Christian Church is exempt from this natural rule, consider that the Church came into being after slaying its savior, and that it maintains its worldwide sway by swindling the populace. (See the Holy Bible.)
Yes, it seems that absolutely nothing can get done in this Best-of-All-Possible-Worlds without engaging in savagery and dissimulation. And the best of us abhor the use of brute force: we see it as undignified; and we are correct. That's why the most distinguished choice that one can make is to come down in favor of lying alone; that is to say: embrace poetry.
*
Now that I've done my job for the morning (every morning I take it upon myself to show humankind the proper way to live), let us amuse ourselves by composing a nonsense story: I'll be the one who holds the pen, and you telepathize me all the plot twists...
STORY
by you & me
In the financial district lived a piece of money who was generating interest daily. Everyone was happy, because the sun was always shining.
Suddenly, good news occurred. A man on horseback came galloping into town and distributed mugs to all living creatures, and we all drank coffee.
But then a wicked witch flew into the financial district; and she landed and immediately began to make bad decisions about what types of businesses to invest in. But then that little piece of money — yes, the same one from our opening sentence above — tiptoed forth and dared to suggest that the witch remove her hat.
Now the witch's hat was was pyramidal; and, when she removed it, her rich black hair cascaded down beautifully. And also her robe fell, revealing a saintly sight.
So everyone became friends again, and the day was saved.
THE END, FOREVER... arrivederci.
*
Now giant silver robots descend from the sky and demand to see everybody's proof. So everyone holds out their respective anecdotes and the sky-bots scan them and leave.
Then a pond is built, right in the center of the financial district, and its water is green.
Whoa! Hear that noise? — A helicopter is approaching the financial district with a hempen net clutched in its talons. (I wonder what's in the net!) (HINT: it's a frog!)
The helicopter drops the contents of its net into the brand-new pond, and we now see that Earth's population is glad about this. All the money keeps buying and selling itself all around.
Ooh, look: the working-class people begin to smile for the first time ever; and folks try chatting with each other. A universal conversation ensues. Then they all meet again at next Thursday's potluck and continue to discuss the themes they developed earlier.
Now cool movies and video games fall from the sky, and people catch them in their shopping carts; then they go home and watch them or play them. Everyone gives these products favorable reviews on the appropriate websites.
Soon a delivery man drives his truck into the financial district and honks his horn twice. The wicked witch steps forth, still unrobed, and raises her voice: "When you beeped just now, did you mean to summon my presence?" And the driver replies: "No, my elbows hit the horn by accident, when I swiveled around to reach for a package that needs delivery. But I'm thankful that you appeared." Then they gaze at each other.
Meanwhile, back out West (or is it East now?), things are going very well. People are getting along just fine, and everyone is content with their condition. We in the audience are allowed to look over the shoulder of an average citizen who happens to be writing down her most intimate thoughts in a private journal, and the text that we can see moves us to tears:
"I've never been so thankful to be alive," sez the diary entry. "Life is awesome: SO much better than before."
Then we turn into ghosts & float down & visit the player who is acting as this journalist & whisper in her ear what turns out to be everyone's favorite line of the movie:
"The word on the street is that things are about to become even BETTER!"
Then, all Heaven breaks loose. The Sky Gods fall to Earth, and there's a low-angle shot of Jehovah and Kronos looking jubilant: both holding high their glittering swords.
NOTE
All names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this prize-winning essay are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), countries, hemispheres, or espionage agencies, is intended or should be inferred. No medium or demiurge associated with this creation received anything of value in exchange for his or her labor-of-love, other than the author Bryan Ray and his dearest gentle reader, who were paid in tobacco products for dreaming up their story. And only two animals were harmed in the filming of the screenplay: Adam and Eve. Plus their interminable line of offspring. Amen... Now let's eat breakfast.
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