Surrounded by food, cash, cappuccinos, cars, roof, walls, AC, flush toilets, running water, and little probability of home invasion by armed men, can you admit it? You've got it nice.
Yeah, you got empathy. That's nice. That's real. Maybe it even upsets you that some don't have it nicer. Maybe it upsets you a lot.
So what are you willing to do about it? Nothing. Nothing but whine. Hey, I'm there, too. Pass me a bud, sister. 'Cause there ain't no stoppin' this train without no personal risk.
What really steams me about you, though, is that you like to believe that just by complaining to other people, you're accomplishing something. You're not. We all know, already. We may not say it, but we feel it, deep in our guts.
Bow to Cohen and feel the truth learned long before you realized Obama was raping every poor person in the world.
Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows that the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That's how it goes
Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
You aren't accomplishing anything by raising awareness. Those cops you hate? The ones that are, as a group, brutal, terrible domestic soldiers, protecting entrenched property interests and inappropriately venting frustrations on the unlucky sub-group of the day?
They're giving it their all. They're out there most days with a big target on their chests, driving cars with big targets on them, that announce loudly to the world, I AM AN AGENT OF THE MOST POWERFUL AND REPRESSIVE DICTATORSHIP KNOWN TO MAN. WHATCHA GONNA DO ABOUT IT?
Nothing. No one's had the guts since the Black Panthers. Because you don't fuck with cops. And you certainly don't fuck with soldiers.
The Proles have the strength to overthrow the Inner Party. The Outer Party has the strength to make the Proles realize it. But they're not going to. You're not going to. Because you like your TV and your dog and your kid and your car and your IRA. You're afraid to do what that little kid did with the Israeli tank during the intifada.
You'd do it if they killed your family and laughed in your face. Then, you might fight back, even if it meant your death. But you're too afraid to stand up for others with anything except your internet voice.
It sucks. It sucks to be part of that killing machine--paying your taxes, driving the speed limit, working your whole life to the ultimate benefit of the elites and their bomb factories or what have you--but it's the choice we've made. You--we--make the decision to be on the "winning" side, because we're afraid of losing what we have. Maybe we do it under the excuse of following orders, but hey, that didn't work during the Nuremberg trials, did it?
So, which one of your tax dollars bought the clusterfuck deathbomb that did this?
"Oh, I'm sorry, your honor, but if I hadn't bought him the gun and driven him to the Circle K, he might've gotten mad at me and never been my friend again!"
Yeah, like that's a decent man's defense.
Just admit it. Look at yourself in the mirror, and say, "I support the killing and poisoning because I don't want to lose my livelihood."
You are the evil. You are the compromise you condemn in others. You've chosen to be on the side of the strongest killers.
That's okay. We can still be friends. When you pretend that your gradual raising awareness is going to spark a third party movement decades from now that might possibly cause small adjustments in foreign and domestic policy that prevent centuries of horrific brutality from being quite so bad, though, you're just as deluded and naive as the ninnyfucks who think Obama is only slaughtering children because the Republicans force him to, or those who think God wants Romney to win so we can all have special pajamas.
The evil is within you, and within all of us. The only ones who have a claim to being free are, even as we speak, fighting back--actually fighting back; not fighting the way fucking Americans think of, like "battling pneumonia" or "fighting to keep on top of work--or have already been shot by our soldiers.
Yes, "our" soldiers. They're yours, too. The evil lies within.