I've been reading about this same omniscience-lust of our corrupt republican representative democracy since the early '90s. I had thought that it simply sought to become more subtle, more refined over time. However, like any patzer, it is merely satisfied to give check where it appears.
Are we drawn in bitter impasse, or is there some intervening move to which we can avail ourselves?
The best I can muster (other than amassing a Bezos fortune and simply buying every shyster for sale) is to buy every elected shyster for sale (i.e. some rough approximation of five nine's worth of elected officials). My local newspaper reported on a school bus driver who was shot in the head, for which there is a go-fund-me effort. Every such mutual aid stop-gap is an indictment of our benighted society.
Maybe Hobbes[1] had it right, but then again, waiting for a messiah is tantamount to resigning.
[1] I love most the story about him in which he entered the club in which The Elements was turned to the final page. He chortled something on the order of "bullshit" or "humbug" and turned to the prior page: and so on and so forth to the first page where he could find no quarrel. The story is surely bullshit itself, but smells none-the-less so sweet.
Are we drawn in bitter impasse, or is there some intervening move to which we can avail ourselves?
The best I can muster (other than amassing a Bezos fortune and simply buying every shyster for sale) is to buy every elected shyster for sale (i.e. some rough approximation of five nine's worth of elected officials). My local newspaper reported on a school bus driver who was shot in the head, for which there is a go-fund-me effort. Every such mutual aid stop-gap is an indictment of our benighted society.
Maybe Hobbes[1] had it right, but then again, waiting for a messiah is tantamount to resigning.
[1] I love most the story about him in which he entered the club in which The Elements was turned to the final page. He chortled something on the order of "bullshit" or "humbug" and turned to the prior page: and so on and so forth to the first page where he could find no quarrel. The story is surely bullshit itself, but smells none-the-less so sweet.