Let the World Turn

While we live according to race, color or creed
While we rule by blind madness and pure greed
Our lives dictated by tradition, superstition, false religion
Through the eons, and on and on…

Through the sorrow all through our splendor
Don’t take offence at my innuendo
— Queen, Innuendo

Today, I am weary and the words will not come. My head is filled up with petty bickering, back-stabbing, and not-so-subtle innuendo, with political correctness, social justice warriors and sad puppies, with writers behaving badly and readers behaving worse. I am disgusted… by the left, by the right, and the bloody fence straddlers. People do not want diversity or equality. They want power. Plain and simple. They want to reverse the order of things, not right the ship. Where is the justice in that? Someone has to be under thumb. Someone has to be on the bottom. Someone has to be cast down, but not out. No, the bootheels must have their place to tread.

I’m so tired of it.

There is no order. Only chaos. Nothing but pretense and posturing and the thrill of the squabble.

I’ve had enough of it. Of all of it. Because, quite frankly, all the voices cry out and they’re all wrong, every bloody last one of them, And where to turn?

hobbitlandIt does remind me of that fervor of misguided youth, when we would sit and talk for hours on end, righting the worlds ills, over drinks of course. My thoughts drift back to a moonless night, a fire casting dispersions on the encroaching darkness, while true friends sat and pondered the course of civilization.

We were as brothers, but our politics ran the gambit. My best friend, who for ten weeks now has called the Summerland his home, had true communal leanings that bordered on libertarianism, while I was a bit more tribal in my philosophies. Of course there was the dyed-in-the-wool conservative, and the liberal minded with delusions of harmonious co-existence. We were Zen, Odinist, Christian, Taoist, Agnostic, Atheist, Humanist, and everything else under the ink black sky.

But that night, and every night, we never lost sight of our commitment to one another. We ate liver, roasted on sticks over an open fire and we drank from the same bottle in divine communion with the spirits of Hobbitland.

All these bickering little ants online need to step away from it all and take a deep breath.

Realize what truly matters.

Let the world turn. Tend to the fire. Pass the bottle.

Brent said to me that evening, as we had gone down by the river to soak our feet beneath the light from the pinholes in the great black curtain of night, “Freimensch, it don’t get any better than this.”

And he was right of course.

The greatest height of human achievement was his mastery of fire, followed closely by the creation of whiskey. Those two things, shared between brothers and sisters is the best we can hope for. Anything beyond that just muddies the waters and distracts us from our kindred bond of friendship.

So, rattle your cages, Internet. Let Left and Right puff up their chests. Rend your shirts and bite your thumbs.

I’ll leave you to it.

I’ve a fire that needs tending…

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