Thots on March Five of 2022

I used to be against authoritarianism, but now I’m warming up to the idea, which is defined as “the enforcement of strict obedience to authority at the expense of personal freedom”. First, why did I once dislike this? Because I want to move around according to my will, which is strong; and I want to think and speak whatever I like. Now, why does authoritarianism no longer irk me? Because I realized that nature itself is authoritarian: we cannot escape it; we’re born into it — it’s the air we breathe — so, if ya can’t beat it, join it. Just think about your own parents: from the moment you enter the world, when you’re a newborn infant, you mourn the loss of eternity upon realizing that you’ve been thrown into spacetime (“...trailing clouds of glory do we come / From God, who is our home…” as Wordsworth sez, in his famous ode); and what is your weeping greeted with? — corrective violence: The one who bore you slaps your face until you shut up. So it’s at once utterly normal that babies are anti-authoritarian, because no one likes pain; but maturity consists of accepting this existential nightmare. Moreover, an artist is one who learns how to enjoy a new style of freedom WITHIN the enforced obedience; so all artists should embrace authoritarianism as their old familiar frenemy: Restrictions in form can often trigger creativity — necessity is the mother of invention — that’s all I’m saying. 

O.G.

So today I rode along with Officer George. You can think of him as named after George Washington; or George III, the British King; or George W. Bush, U.S. prez number 43 — I don’t care how you interpret the origins of his name: To me, he’s just my police partner George, who allowed me to accompany him on his journey. 

The first thing we did was stop at the Office Supplies Mega-Store to buy a new laptop computer so that we could track the movements of criminals. We tossed our old laptop into the trunk of our squad cruiser, as a way of unceremoniously retiring it, because it didn’t have enough memory to run the program that we wanted to use. You see, some nerd from the Cubicle Farm that develops such miracles devised a program for use on law-enforcement laptops; and this program is supposed to help policemen like Officer George and I apprehend criminals. I’m all in favor of making jobs easier. (I’m not an official cop yet; I just ride around with experienced officers, for kicks, and then record our adventures on my weblog.) The computer program that I’m talking about displays on our laptop’s screen a detailed map of the city’s streets; and all the criminals that have been registered with the system are represented as red dots that move to and fro. Well, like I said, our old laptop was weak and couldn’t perform all the computations fast enough, so the screen’s image kept freezing when we tried to use it — this would cause us to lose track of the criminals, and therefore the bad guys would always get away. So Officer George and I stopped at the Office Supplies Mega-Store and bought an updated laptop with a better processor; and, when we loaded the crime-fighting program onto the thing, it ran smoothly for the time being.

I pointed my hand at 300 South Fourth Street and held up the screen so that my partner could see it: “Officer George! I have spotted a criminal!” — While driving the cop car, Officer George squinted at the screen and noted the whereabouts of our target; then he nodded and said: 

“I’m on it.” 

He put the pedal to the metal, and we sped to the crime scene.

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When we arrived, there was a man dressed in black from head to toe. He was wearing sunglasses and looking suspicious. Officer George parked the vehicle, and he and I climbed out of the windows. We approached this suspect with our firearms drawn.

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The second criminal of the day was a man at The Flower Shop. We received a call that came thru on our citizens-band radio: 

“Help!” whispered the voice of a distressed flower-clerk into the receiver “I think we’re about to be robbed!” 

Officer George pressed the “Reply” button and said confidently: 

“We’re on the way.”

So we showed up outside of The Flower Shop with our firearms drawn. Sure enough, there was a suspect in the plant-food aisle. 

“Gimme a sec,” I nudged George with the barrel of my gun. 

George nodded and held his position. 

I then went back to the squad cruiser and turned on the new laptop that we had bought earlier in the day, and waited for it to reach the desktop screen. Then I double-clicked the arrow icon on the Crime-Fighting program. Sure enough, once the map of the city appeared, there was a red dot lurking within the graphic corresponding to the Burnsville Mall that contains the Flower Shop. I then put the laptop into “sleep mode” and climbed back out of the window and joined Officer George. 

“Let’s go!” I said.

So we entered the shop. There were flowers everywhere. It smelled really nice. I think I even heard some bees buzzing about: 

“That’s strange,” I remarked into my wristwatch, which is advanced enough to contain a voice-activated diary-recording device that I use to make notes-to-self, “I thought that insects went extinct.” 

Then Officer George started firing his weapon, so I joined in and emptied my own gun’s clip: 

It turns out that we caught the criminal red-handed trying to steal something. 

We carefully handcuffed this individual and brought them to justice. They received a fair trial in front of a judge and before a jury of their peers. I myself testified under oath, and George also offered an affidavit that backed up my story.

“Wow, that judge really threw the book at our perp,” I remarked to Officer George as we were leaving the courthouse. 

“Yeah, two lifetime sentences is pretty rough,” replied Officer George; “but, you must remember, this person was caught stealing — and it wasn’t just an item of small value that they were trying to nab. I agree with the saying: Let the punishment fit the crime.”

I shook my head, in acknowledgement of Officer George’s truth: “You’re right, I admit.”

Then Officer George and I took a trip to the aviary. That’s the building at the center of the city that is dedicated for birds to exist in. Unlike cages, the aviary allows birds a larger living space where they can fly; so it’s more humane than, say, a standard zoo, or outdoor freedom (which can be extremely terrifying). Our city’s aviary contains plants and shrubbery to simulate a natural environment. Bats are also on display.

When we entered thru the French glass sliding doors, Officer George and I marveled at the sight of all the flapping wings. I lifted my hand instinctively, and a little songbird fluttered up and perched on my finger. 

“Look at that!” I smiled. 

Officer George smiled as well.

“I like birds because they have feathers,” I said, staring in awe at the little songbird, which kept tilting its head rapidly to and fro.

“Yes, but birds also have talons — claws — which can scratch up the pelt of your livestock. Also, you must resist becoming enchanted by the complex songs that these little birds sing. One they start to serenade you in the morning, you must tie yourself to the mast of your sailboat, and command your mariners to lash you with whips if you begin to show any sign of unfeigned enjoyment. Two proverbs I always repeat to greenhorns, like you, O Bryan, mine heir — 'Beware of songbirds', and: 'Beware of sunshine'.”

The bird that was perched on my finger flew away when Officer George ended his speech with a loud hand-clap. 

We spent the next few hours strolling leisurely thru the aviary and admiring all the inmates. 

“Ooh, here’s my favorite!” Officer George gestured to an American Bald Eagle that soared before us majestically.

“I like that one, too,” I said sincerely, “very much.”

This first eagle was then joined by a German Imperial Eagle and a Holy Roman Eagle, and the three soared above us as a trinity. 

“What a coincidence!” said Officer George and I in tandem, along with a third man who had draped his arms around us (the LORD God). And we all remain awestruck, staring up at the air, to this day.