Tag Archives: official lies

We’re Going to the Circus, Mom!

 

Has current civilization become nothing more than an on-going circus? Is everything fake and false? Can anything be believed, or believed in?

“There’s a sucker born every minute!” (a saying associated with P.T. Barnum but was in evidence long before his time. A saying of con men in general.) Have we all devolved happily and become the proverbial suckers of the times? That’s not even a rhetorical question: we truly have.

If you ever watch some political sides of You Tube, watch the numbnuts who follow Trump’s mindless rants and judge for yourself. One of his latest, openly slandering Ilhan Omar, shows his fans mindlessly chanting “Send her back! Send her back!” What sort of creatures are these ignorant Trumpites? The exact same that followed Hitler and made WWII possible. (By the way, most of them died in it too but the rank stupidity of these creatures precludes any reasoning of cause and effect.)

I saw an interview with a journalist commenting on his meeting with the Donald. His comment was priceless: “It’s frustrating interviewing Donald Trump. What does he mean when he uses words?”

Yes… what does Trump really mean when he uses words in his tweets or rallies? Difficult to say isn’t it since everything he utters is a lie – and make no mistake about this: any partial truth is always a lie, in fact it is the perfect lie because no matter which side the numbnuts stand, one can say he’s stating a fact while the other can say he’s lying and both are right.

So you made it to the circus, paid your entry fee, and there he is, as big as life itself: the clown they elevated to circus master, and he’s promising you all sorts of entertainment, all of it so biggly, you’ve never seen the likes before. He gets you in the mood to believe, and when the scraggly, half-starved, hobbled lion show up on stage, you’re in darkest Africa on a safari. You’re the great white hunter and no other great white hunter has ever faced such odds as you are today.

You see, you’re a believer. You paid your fee and you will be entertained as no one has ever been entertained before. The man’s promises are your guarantee, and your willing mind is the provider of this fake reality TV show.

This kind of devolution and submission to spurious trumpery is the way civilization has chosen to go, whether deliberately and mindlessly, and it’s become a global circus.

There are very serious events taking place throughout the world which require equally serious thinking and quest for solutions. Do we continue to choose mindless and destructive entertainment, or do we get serious? Do I even need to ask that?

Check this post out: Jill Dennison reblogs George Monbiot.

We’re Not Laughing Anymore …

The Accused

(I may have posted this story before, I cannot remember and it doesn’t matter, it’s a question of conscience, feelings, and a particular burning remembrance in my heart.)

The Accused

                                   [a short story from  ~ burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

A black hood is pulled over her head and tied around her neck.

She is propelled into the interrogation room down a flight of four cement steps to fall blindly against a metal table leg.

Grabbed from behind, she is roughly pulled up and her wrists shackled to a bar above her head.

Through the torn blouse and knee length skirt her flesh shows deep bruising and bloody cuts.

She hangs motionless .  Silent.

The interrogator’s voice is harsh, cutting,

“You are accused of treason.  How do you plead?”

No answer.

“You must answer me.”

No answer.

“Make her talk.”

Torture.  Moans.  Gagging.  A scream escapes the hooded prisoner’s lips.

“Stop!”

Silence, except for the prisoner’s halting breathing and low moans.

“Are you a traitor to the state?”

No answer.

“Again I ask: Are you a traitor?”

A sigh but no answer.

“Make her talk.”

More torture.  More screams.  No pleading for mercy.

They tie her ankles to keep her from kicking.
Blood drips down her legs and bare feet;
falls to pool on the cement floor that has accumulated same on many previous occasions.

“Stop!”

“You are accused of sedition against the State.  How do you plead?”

Short gasps, moaning.  No audible word.

“Answer me!”

A high-pitched moan, no verbal answer.

“Make her talk!”

Scream!  Scream!  Long, piercing blood-curdling scream… loud moan and silence.

“Stop!”

The interrogator stands up from his chair and walks around to face the woman.  He looks at her bleeding and shaking form for several seconds.  He unties the hood and pulls it from her head.

“Oh God, no! … NO!  This cannot be happening!”

“Father,”  whispers the girl through her broken face, “you assured me you never tortured prisoners.  I had to know if you were lying to me.  At least I am not dying in ignorance.  I forgive you…”

Her head drops forward.

“Get an ambulance here — now!  Unshackle her, lay her on the table, get blankets, get water, cloths, move!”

From the shadows the attending physician comes forward, checks the prisoner’s pulse and the severity of her wounds and pronounces a physician’s most dreaded words:  “She is dead sir.”