The Reins of Power

There was a man who was out of his mind.businessman riding white horse, through obstacles He sat at the edge of the Lagoon of War and Peace with his senior adviser. This man who was out of his mind could handle a lot of adulation, and his senior adviser could give a lot of it. The great misfortune of this man who was out of his mind is that he had just gotten the reins of power and had immediately possessed them. He knew that a nation must be led, and that the problem of every government was the problem of responsible leadership.

The senior adviser said, “It doesn’t matter that they didn’t award you the Nobel Peace Prize. That’s what we have great people like you for.  They can bide their time. Until it comes.”

The man who was out of his mind nodded. “So true. Until it comes.”

“Until what comes?”

“The time. What else? You just said it.”

“So true,” said the sycophantic senior adviser.

“I have a lovely vision of America and Europe,” began the man who was out of his mind. “America comes first because it begins with the first letter of the alphabet. In Europe, government had always been the private property of a few families of thieves. The Hapsburgs, the Hohenzollerns, the Romanovs. What were the concerns of these thieves and tyrants? Who did they feel themselves responsible to? No one. Even the churches were at their service. Oh, I forgot the Medici’s.”

“Fortunately,” said the senior adviser, “Europe got rid of these families of thieves. Things have changed. People can develop in freedom now.”

The man who was out of his mind said, “In greatness too. Yes,” he held up his hand, “they got rid of the dynasties, but now government is the private property of banks and corporations. Same thieves, different names. Terrible. Banks and corporations. Terrible. And what is the mantra of these thieves? The mantra is power. Accumulate more and more power. The people who allegedly elected them are subsidiary.”

I think the word is “secondary”, said his senior adviser.

“Same thing. Subsidiary. Secondary. The people provide soldiers, pay taxes, take part in protest marches, write poems, paint, compose music. So a little civilization, a little culture develops, but it’s a lame culture because it can’t develop its potential. It can even be a peaceable lame culture, but the time always comes when it must go to war because the thieves are at its head.”

The senior adviser said, “Truer words were never spoken. Some of the music’s not too bad, by the way.”

The man who was out of his mind looked at his senior adviser and lifted an eyebrow. “Are you making fun of me?

“Of course not, Wynne.  No.”

“No?”

“Oh, no!  Where would I get the strength, sir?”

“What do you mean strength? I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. Neither do I, Mr. American.” And the senior adviser apologized in a nervous whisper, muttering something about liberty and free markets.

 

 

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About judyjablow123

In my youth I was a world class tournament golfer. I earned an MA in history at NYU, after which I knew I had had enough of academia. I have remained a student of history. I have a strongly personal - almost entirely negative- take on the contemporary pharmaceutical and mental health industries. That was the impetus for my Bluepolar blog, which will also include stuff on sports, history and anything else that strikes my interest.
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