30 April 2012

Blast from the Past Bites Own Sittable Limb

Dear Dr. Bones

I fear Rear-Colonel Hanson-Blimp may be one of those goodvolks who, with a little address, can be funded into thinkin’ they think pretty well anythin’ a Venerable Funder might happen to want thought.

In the present case, the reasons why the CCUSA, an’ the Zenith (OH) Chambermaids of Commerce, an’ the Hoovervillains of Palo Alto, an’ the Hoovervillains of K Street, an’ the Moguls of the backwater media, an’ ... so on favor the public preachin’ of Destructive ©®eationism™ [1] are not mysterious. Once Televisionland an’ the electorate have been AstroTurf™-bagged into witless wads of Tee Putty who would never dream of contradictin’ the dogmas of D©®™, why, pretty well anythin’ their Freelordships do next can be defended as thoroughly pious. An’ ¡not the least bit like baloney either!

Not just ‘defended’, but maybe even ‘acclaimed’. Should some individual waddess or wad feel that the ‘Destructive’ aspect predominates over the creationivistic aspect in her/his own immediate vicinity, yet the Consolations of AEIdeology (Pat. Pend.) will be read at hand, prepackaged an’ shrinkwrapped. "Two caplets an’ a glass of whine" will take care of most whightaches.

As a newcomer amongst the dogmatic mythologies of Western Civ., D©®™ does not (or anyway, should not) venture up onto the very loftiest wind-swept heights of self-grandeur. "Though Big Management slay me, yet shall I trust in Them" might be thought a little tasteless even by a go-getter like Wallace Horatio Alger Wombschool, who has no doubts about the Chicagonomic neoteachin’s in the abstract. You and I have agreed that Big Management is goin’ta be needin’ lots an’ lots of uncritical support in the dark days to come.

The dark days already come upon us since the Crawford Crash. For their Freelordships have already wrought great things in the D©®™ line, might works of wreckage that respectable cloth-coat Republicanines, their so-called Party base an’ vile, are not (yet) so utterly besotted as to be pleased about. The need to further besot the kiddiecons is plain.

What I fail to comprehend, though, is why their Firstlordships call on poor old Blimp-Hanson to do their Class’s dirty work. I had thought VDB-H about the least suitable exponent of Destructive ©®eationism™ on all of G*re’s green earth. ¡An ex-perfesser of Laffer an’ Grief, for Pete’s sake! Don Victorito is contaminated ex officio, as it were, with the bunkiest bits of our Ms. Clio’s collection, bits so musty-dusty (an’ ¡e-lightist to boot!) that even you and Paddy and I can sorta see why tossin’ ’em summarily in a trashbag might seem a rosy dawn to the less expensively educated.

To be sure, if their Firstlorships could trot out Hanson-Blimp lookin’ like the ‘after’ photograph of Winston Smith

to edify us with a little salutary selfcriticism: "Yes, neocomrades, it is all true. I DID yoosta think the Peloponnesian War was a very big deal. But that was then an’ this is now. Now I love nothin’ big save Big Management alone, an’ I suggest you love Them too . . . if you know what’s good for you . . . you must . . . know that Big Management an’ Destructive ©®ea™ionism are good for everybody. Q. E. D. _¡Arriba Romney!_ Thank you for your kind attention."

Happy days.

[1] "Present-day and future America ... is changin[’] by the hour ... makin[’] obsolete all the old big [biggies]."

The neometaphysics of a "future America" that alters continually in advance of actually existing would be fun to look into, were it not so likely that VDB-H is pretty much keystrokin’ at random. Like most of the D©®™ clown troupe, his freelordship dare not go into any petty detail about mañana, lest we suspect that he scabs for Funders who believe in icky plannin’. As you must recall, the late Freiherr Freddy showed that the die funkionierende Planung is the very shortest route down the slippery slope to die Knechtschaft.

Whether the blimp-fundin’ Class act as they do out of intellectual deference to a viennasausage freelord is more than questionable, but fortunately on this point, at least, the Firstlords of Freedumb hardly required any far-fetched tutorin’. Our homebrew Scrooges an’ Warbucks an’ Frères Koch (&c. &c.) would be singin’ "My bank / factory / plantation / franchise to mee a Kingdome is" had von Hayek never been hatched. And everybooby whighteous knows that in the Kindgome of Mee, only Eye do the functional plannin’. Should somebooby else attempt to usurp that rôle, well, that contingency is basically what the Rotweilers an’ the stormtroopers are for. Plus naturally the Legal Department, though shysters tend to do more to pick up after trespasses have happened than to forfend an’ preëmpt.

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