I am not an academic. Big surprise, huh? Oh, I went to college…several times. Even attained a degree of sorts. But that isn’t(nor ever was) important. I’m the guy that pulled pigtails…the spitball kid in class. Hit and run, that’s me. So don’t expect a talking-points debate from me. I have neither the acumen nor the desire.
When my brother and I were kids…a waaaaay long time ago, my Father was an electrical engineer. Very hands-on type. He was intrigued by all things technological…hence his love of his occupation, I guess. Anyway, he used to bring home tons of these new techie-toys to work/experiment/play with. One of the things that he and his boys shared a fascination for was the pure mercury contained in some electrical switches used back then. My Bro and I used to break these switches open and collect the quicksilver that came from them. We would keep it in little bottles and take it out on occasion to “play” with it.
Now before you exclaim: “Ah HAH! THAT’S what’s wrong with him!”…don’t think you are the first to jump to that conclusion. This is of course before the dangers of mercury poisoning were known to medical science. A strange time of dangerous innocence. But isn’t every time filled with these types of horrendous hazards yet to be uncovered? So, we would sit on the back porch and push and pull this amazing liquid/metal around with our fingers…scooping it up in our hands(OMG!) and marveling at it’s weight, color and general…”Oooh, COOL!” properties. It was mesmerizing. It wouldn’t be trapped. It couldn’t be cornered. It was hard to direct it’s motion and you could under NO circumstances, no matter how hard you tried, squish it under your fingers. When you dropped it, it smashed into a million little puddles. It wouldn’t be absorbed or go away. It was scary on a certain level. I sort of liked that. And yet it was exasperating. It was liquid resistance. It was sneaky.
I suspect this accounts for many of my unusual thought processes even now(not to mention my still-nutty brother). But on to Jim Jones. If you are too young to remember Rev. Jones, or have forgotten(how could you?), the good Reverend was head of the first-to-be-designated as a modern “cult”. I am afraid that I am going to have agree with the diagnosis of the MSM at the time. Jones was nuttier than a fruitcake. But the important part was that he had hundreds of followers. His infamous last congregational gathering is where we get the phrase “drinking the Kool-Aid”. But you know all this. So how in hell am I going to tie this all up in a neat little package for you to take home? Let me throw Helen Thomas into the mix. As you are no-doubt aware, my fellow spitball flinger was disgraced and fired for having the audacity to tell jews to get the hell out of Palestine and go back to Germany and Poland where they came from. She never really recanted the remark, and that’s why I still love the old gal. Maybe she too played with the silver goo in it’s most basic form.
Everyone knows that to dislike israhell, or jews in general is unthinking hatred and racism. It conjures up images of the “death camps” of the Third Reich. These are memes, I think they call them. Carefully crafted lies and propaganda to cover a “cult” not unlike the one the good Rev. Jones commandeered into a suicide pact. The difference being that unlike Jones, the leaders of this hebrew cult will not take the final sip. They will be polite and let you drink from the cup of death first. But you won’t be around to witness THEIR final sacrifice. Your bodies will be lying on the soft grass next to those of your children. Gone. With all your worldly goods in the coffers of the cult leaders.
I guess my question is, exactly where DO you draw the line? I mean, when does the world realize that other than the conviction of a Rev. Jones willingness to drink the mix WITH you…a cult is still a cult. No matter how clever these “chosen ones” are in their avoidance of the “dixie-cup of the eternal” themselves, they will still sacrifice the gullible.
We Gentiles are cornered and squished as easily as clay, while they-like quicksilver-cannot be pinned down. They slime and slide from under our grasp. Pretending to be a race, a culture…a religion. Shining with false promise, obscuring hazard…defying definition.
Drink the sweet death. Play with the liquid metal pain. See it shine.