Lilliput

What a mess this country is in.

It seems to me that it's nothing more than an endless tirade of citizen against citizen. White against Black against White against Mexican against Mexican against Black against Black against White against White. That their need to 'bear arms' is in self-defense against each other; against their fellow citizens, their own community, their neighbors. It seems every One is in fear of every Other.

I find myself living in a place where my fellow humans are so mistrustful of each other than they must carry deadly weapons on their person at all times.

I find the compulsive drive for social hierarchy one of the most heart-breaking and ignorant practices facing this landscape; the need to elevate oneself against another; the need for an Other in order to validate the Self, the non-Other. The need to point out, attack, and degrade the superficial differences of fellow human beings, out of nothing more than pure ignorance and bigoted Opinion, with no Reason or Fact, with the sole purpose of establishing one's own Superiority.

Gulliver's Travels is on the forefront of my mind.
The Little-Endians and Big-Endians are as prominent as ever, the divide as wide as ever, and the absurdity of this utterly trivial division is just as potent and noxious as it were in this 1726 world - yet they remain blind to those qualities of it and continue to uphold it with great urge and ferocity.

I have found myself surrounded by more insidious and blatant, wide-open bigotry, ignorance, prejudice than ever before. The first Amendment seems to be to be little more than 'Asshole Rights' in the community immediately around me; the right to remain bigoted, the right to believe 'that niggers are a problem' the right to believe that 'whites are supreme' the right to believe that 'women are inferior to men' and the right to express and perpetuate all of this madness.

It breaks my heart that the words on these peoples' iconic statue of liberty, which they behold like a god and celebrate so highly and profoundly in their images and words, are overlooked entirely, as if, at some point, someone erased them entirely.

This year has been an awful one in many respects.
The only American thing I have left in me, in this world, is my passport, and sometimes even that seems like a disgrace.

If it were up to me, I'd be back on Inis Oírr with Jack and Brógan living a minimal life in ignorant bliss with a garden of sweet potatoes and speaking in tongues.