"purported needs of the State"

Dear Dr. Bones,

The self-educationalist quest of Don Ricardito de Morán y Podhóretz has now reached Mr. Jeremy Bentham, it appears, an author whom one may safely presume to be excluded by all competent institutions of neoteric wombschoolery and/or Foxcuckooland tomfoolery.

Though an enemy of Church and King and, especially, of Rulalaw as Rulalaw worked 1748-1832, Bentham addressed himself literarily only to certain selected TopPercenters on Airstrip One who were capable of reading and comprehending all the greater works written in favour of Church and King and Rulalaw, even if they had never got around to actually doing so. I betcha 95% of them had read Blackstone’s Commentaries, which should have been enough to allow them to decrypt most of the mysteries of l’utilitarianisme britannique if taken in conjunction with every gent’s then residual knowledge of extinct languages.

Addressin’ itself to (passively) pajamatarian wingnutettes and wingnuts no better educated than its own neoself, Don Ricardito is reduced to quotin’ from a reference manual. I daresay Philosophy for Penguins probably comes in at least a nose or two ahead of anythin’ colonial deployed nowadays at Wombschool Normal University and St. Dilbert Antistate College [1]. Nevertheless, one must be shackled well down the Great Chain of Agitprop if one cannot avoid such slummin’ entirely.

To its credit, the señorito neotérico does, sort of, try to break free for a moment, as follows:

[R]egardless of what you think of the tea party people and movement, it should be recognized as being part of the classic American push-pull between the rights of the individual and the purported needs of the state.

It sure ain’t tryin’ very hard, not with that jocular ‘purported’ stuck in, but all the same, such a sentence would be impossible for most of the lemmin’ pack ever to emit. They, poor sweet neopuppies, have never got beyond the public-sector teachin’s [1.5] of Their Ford, whereas Don Ricardito the autodidact has become decidedly an advanced chela.

Perhaps the best way to diagnose this bit of factional drain bamage, Dr. Bones, would be to elaborate the distinction of ‘active’ and ‘passive’ wingnuttery that I casually ventured upon above. As follows:

Your PASSIVE wingnutettes and wingnuts -- 98.507% of 19% of holy-Homelanders™ at last count -- understand Their Ford’s ever-immortal oracle "History is bunk!" only passively, that is, the way a Dan Quayle brand Couch Potatoe (®) naturally would: Ms. Clio simply never says anythin’ that redstate-blooded go-getters need attend to. [2]

ACTIVE wingnutettes and wingnuts, by contrast, who constitue 01.593% of 19% of 306,666,666 holy-Homelanders™ -- and thus 928,188.5 real or purported ‘individuals’ --, have been made privy to the Esoteri© T®adition of Their Ford. At this higher level of self-wunnerfulness, Dr. Bones, the adept becomes aware that "History is Bunk" is rather a Kiddie ©ause than a consumer ideoproduct. Or at any rate, in addition to bein’ a consumer ideoproduct.

History, that is, can be turned into Bunk by (ahem!) affirmative action whenever it happens not to be there yet already.

Needless to say, those who march loyally in the path of Party an’ Ideology wish this blessèd and mysterious transmogrification to come to pass ASAP. Hence, inter alia nonnulla, Neocomrade Don Ricardito’s tendentious little "purported needs of the [S]tate." [3] [4]

And now, that’s enough for now, if you read the notes too.

I remain, sir, ever wishing you, and all the world,
Healthy and affordable days.

___
[1] WNU: http://law.pepperdine.edu/ St. Dilbert’s: http://tinyurl.com/y6rpaax . Plus quite a number of inferior wannabes and wannabe-inferiors.


[1.5] At Hooverville, and Wingnut City generally, the inferiority of public-sector teachin’s to secret- or private-sector ditto utterly goes without sayin’. But since we stand outside the monkey house, Dr. Bones, the Muses and you and I may point this sort of point out from time to time, for the benefit of decent political grown-ups, and the court historians to Princess Posterity, and such other unmonkeys as possess a liberal curiosity.


[2] Since that is the road I shall not go down from the fork, Dr. Bones, qualifications and restrictions about the antihistoricism of passive wingnuts are mere digressions that belong in a short note, if anywhere.

A fuller treatment would have to pace such manifestations as [http://tinyurl.com/y5kxol8], wherein Party Neocomrade Don Guillermito Whittle-Patxama offers the sweet puppies a sort of Powe®Point show that trots out dogs and ponies who were undoubtedly historical in one plain sense, and whom the señorito cannot be supposed to desire its patients/victims/customers to regard as bunk.

(( I am tempted to lay it down dogmatically that anything that touches Powe®Point is instantly defiled and degraded to the rank of Bunque First Class. But that won’t quite do, because (1) Whittle-Patxama’s self-servicin’ neoreveries about Auld Lange Syne only resemble Authentic µicrosoft, without actually bein’ the real McCaughey. And (2), the Venerable Framers™ scarcely had to wait for Whittle-Patxama to get this type of trick played on them. The Rev. Neocomrade M. L. Weems was at the Wh.-P. game, close enough, as long ago as Anno Religionismi 1240/1825/5584. [http://tinyurl.com/y4sghsh] ))


[3] Perhaps the Muses and you and I ought to mosey over to St. Dilbert’s some sunny afternoon this spring, sir, to find out exactly what trippa e bologna is fed to innocent wombscholars as regards Mr. Madison and the Gang of Eighty-Seven. I find it very difficult to imagine that even the Party of Big Management and of the AEIdeology can totally hush up the fact that there was a certain pro-State aspect to those famous transactions.

But Father Zeus knows best.


[4] Though doomed to be utter hogwash as wie es eigentlich geschehen, a brief Purported History of the Holy Homeland™ (or some similar title better adapted to the market niches of Rio Limbaugh and Port Ste. Lucie) from the keyboard of P&I Neocomrade R. Morán-Podhóretz might be of considerable literary interest.

One fantasizes Neocomrade John, Freelord of Galt, assistin’ the "forgotten man" of Neocomrade Herr Prof. Dr. W. G. Sumner of Y*L* in a never-endin’ struggle against the squid-like--nay, sir, the hydra-like!--tentacles of a Wicked State, the capital chapter of whose wickedness is that it is all so very, very needless and useless.

The WGS F. M., call him Oblivianus provisionally, keeps gettin’ sandbagged and sandtrapped again and again, but he always keeps right on comin’ back for more. After elevenscore and umpteen years of Homelandic™ independence, Oblivianus has somehow managed to become ...

... lemme see ... ah, here it is! ...

managed somehow to become "wealthier and more well-educated than the general public, and ... no more or less afraid of falling into a lower socioeconomic class." (( Dixit [http://tinyurl.com/y53llhb] . ))

At which point a previously unnoticed tentacle [*] called PPACA, the "Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act" of Y. R. 1431/2010/5770 aka "Public Law No. 111-148," coshes poor Oblivianus suddenly in the back of the redstateneck with forty-five subtentacles and a thousandscore-odd pages of utterly needless wickedstatism [http://tinyurl.com/ya4nxab] , whereupon . . . .

(( Please stay tuned for the next thrillin’ neoëpisode, everybody! ))


[*] A tentaclette (?) "no larger than a man’s hand," as it were: In septimâ autem vice, ecce nubicula parva quasi vestigium hominis ascendebat de mari . . . . [Lib. III Reg. XVIII:44]