There Is No "I" in Democracy

by Retta Fontana 

Exclusive to STR

May 10, 2007

Jolly old St. Nicholas, lean your ear this way.  Don’t you tell a single soul what I’m going to say.  Christmas Eve is coming soon; now you dear old man, whisper what you’ll bring to me; tell me if you can.  

Lately there have been headlines about empty beehives.  Where have all the bees gone?  Some say their absence is due to the overabundance of cell phone signals confusing them; some blame the genetically modified produce they pollinate.  Maybe they just got tired of being workers for the greater good and dropped out.  (Oh, come on, a girl can dream, can’t she?)  

What say we forget about the half million or so dead Iraqis and millions more with merely shattered lives and buzz about the bees?!  It’s what the mainstream media seems to be doing.  I’m not saying pollination is not important to life--I’m saying living is.   

Why is killing people outright more acceptable than a threat to the food supply?  Could it be that government controls the media?  Could it be that killing outright is preferable because it pays big dividends to military contractors and allows the powers that be to choose which ones live and which ones die?  Is killing just more fun when you have the biggest standing military in the world at your disposal?  

In a great society, individuals matter only in so far as they compose the masses, and only then if they are tax paying, voting, white masses.  A drone isn’t essential to a hive, but drones are.  No colony recognizes that one of its own got eaten or squished and didn’t come home.  If half of them didn’t come home, it would be noticed and there would be some changes made in quick order (not because any of them mattered as individuals, however).  Until then, keep your head down and your shoulder to the plow, increase output, conserve and follow orders, all for the good of the tribe.  If you’re a good boy or girl, you’ll get yours.  

Today public schools place a lot of stock in reading.  They want all the good boys and girls to learn to read--not so that they’ll be able to think (thinking is dangerous) but so that they can follow the road signs when they are told where to go.  In fact, in a great, benevolent society, they’ll put many of you through college so that you can increase productivity and work smarter to provide for ever increasing numbers of drones.  Once they’ve paid for you in this way, they own you and your allegiance.  

In general, humans are marginally smarter than bees.  After a few thousand years, they’ve basically rejected the idea that one “queen,” if you will, is born superior and therefore has been pre-ordained to reign.  Once every four years, those who secretly still believe this poppycock must put on a media circus, complete with door prizes for the drones to convince them as well.  Not that that’s difficult to do; they’d just as soon not have to think for themselves anyway.  

This arrangement is clearly a tacit agreement; not to be confused with an explicit one based upon understanding and integrity between individuals.  It is actually an agreement that indeed some are born superior because they are willing to throw themselves into the “service” of the people.  The difference is that it’s more like an open-ended contract: The people use their allegiance as leverage for the promise of more future goodies, and the chosen “serve” the people any old way they like once they are declared “winner’ of the popularity contest.   

It’s no different than a special boy and girl being declared by their peers as prom “king” and “queen.” There’s no objection to that practice at all.  It’s as if deep down in our unconscious core we accept the concept of a caste system even though we know we are not ever to come out on top ourselves.  We have to settle for voting, for pretending to choose who will be on top.  What are we teaching our children?  

During the infamous revolution, the French violently rejected the notion that those born to royalty had the right to do as they pleased at the expense of others.  Nothing has really changed since then, except by degrees.  The truth is, the French today have no objection to the rules not applying to the “chosen” at the top--they just get a different title.  Nor do they object to serving their elected “royalty” or providing well for them, so long as they get an ever-increasing pile of goodies. This is evidenced by the current “peacocks on parade” election show in France .  If more isn’t promised to the people all the time, come Election Day heads will roll once again.  Angry mobs will electorally lop off, left and right, the heads of any whore dumb enough not to keep upping the ante.  Man as a whole has evolved to the point where he is smart enough not to give away for nothing the acknowledgement of his superiors and his acquiescence to be ruled by them.  

Bobby wants a pair of skates; Suzy wants a sled; Nellie wants a picture book, yellow, blue and red.  Now I think I’ll leave to you what to give the rest.  Choose for me, dear Santa Claus; you will know the best.  

Even drones “learn” that democracy is very different from communism.  To the masses, democracy really means that I get to have a say in how my masters rule my neighbors.  How cool is that?  “Equality,” so touted by successful politicians, means that there is something in it for everybody if we all just stick together and follow the rules.  We’re all equal (except for those at the top), this is the only fair way, and very different from and much freer than other forms of government – really.  

Sadly, people think they get a “voice” in who will rule them and how.  They self righteously believe that their form of government is superior – to question the status quo is just too much like work.  They think that having a kind of political “tether” around only one ankle is a big improvement over dictatorship, where both ankles are chained to the next fellow.  Like pathetic convicts demanding two hours of sunshine per day instead of one and pizza once a month, they make demands by voting, and they’re going to be heard before they acquiesce once again to the cattle prod of the state.  

Voters compose Christmas-like wish lists that, today, go something like this: free abortion, childcare, education, welfare, disability, healthcare (including vaccinations and prescriptions), transportation, housing, job security, unemployment insurance, disability insurance, flood insurance and a pension.  They want equal opportunity for women to go to the moon at taxpayer expense.  (Now there’s something worth selling our children into slavery for!)  They want the superior beings in government to provide “freedom from” smoking, swearing, drugs, drinking, nudity, guns, Mexicans, Muslims, cheap Asian labor, gays, logging, bird flu, e. coli, red meat and saturated fat.  If they don’t like what you say, they’ll defend to your death their right to stop you from saying it.  If they can’t get away with offing you, they’ll have you tossed into a military prison, to be held indefinitely incommunicado as an “enemy combatant” and tortured, in which case you’re as good as gone.  

They want millions of gallons of water piped into the desert to keep their lawns green, but they’ll accept strict limitations on the amount of water that can flow from their showerheads or go down the toilet at one flush.  In return for sweet little lies, they’ll tolerate snooping into their medical records, bank records, credit cards, mail and phone calls.  The state can peek with impunity into their lungs, blood or uterus and test, categorize and medicate their children.  There is no part of life too miniscule for a politician to get his nose into if it smells faintly of funding or power, and nothing the whoring masses won’t sell for a shiny new promise.  

The masses keep their collective (and boy do I mean collective) eye on the prize.  Just look at those neatly manicured lawns and RVs parked out back.  Once a year they gas her up and take her out to the lake for two weeks.  They drink some beers and ride around all day on their whiny jet skis (or snowmobiles,) sounding for all practical purposes just like drones.  

Everybody wants something for nothing.  Politicians have figured out how to play this monopoly game: They control the banks, utilities and railroads and hotel construction.  They promise to deliver it all and more.  Oddly, it doesn’t cost them a nickel, but this doesn’t make them superior.  They’re doing the same thing as the drones: taking advantage of a rigged system.  Unlike taxpayers, professional politicians just happen to actually come out ahead in the end, while the taxpayer is left holding the bag, and what a bag!  Ron Paul says that “last year alone our long-term obligations increased by $4.6 trillion!”  

Nellie wants a storybook, she thinks dolls are folly; as for me, my little brain isn’t very bright; choose for me, old Santa Claus, what you think is right.  

Whoever would be the next “Santa” must provide if he is to have his superiority recognized and officially ordained.  Either that, or he or she can just buddy up to a guy who can hack into a voting machine.  Buying one guy is cheaper and easier than buying everyone.  It’s good work if you can get it, but you still have to somehow pacify the masses.  

Either way, the drones are convinced that some, albeit minimal, show of acquiescence validates the process, so they must be exercising their power and voice somehow by voting.  After all, there’s such a big hullabaloo about it that it must be significant.  Smart people in nice suits on television say so!  They need to vote so that Santa will know how serious they are about wanting those presents!  

The politicians have also figured out how to get the drones to pay for not only the promises, but for political vote buying and vote counting extravaganzas to the tune of millions every election cycle.  Sheepletons subsidize their own “Christmas” presents and candy to the tune of trillions, far more than if they just went out and bought it themselves, and still they press on.  Their government accumulates debt to pay for their hollow gifts, so much so that their children’s children won’t be able to pay off the bill when it comes due.   

In fact, there is no end to the promises politicians will make.  Drones know they are lies, but it’s so sweet to indulge the imagination.  It has to be why internet sex is so popular.  “Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies” as Fleetwood Mac recognized. “I’ll settle for one day to believe in you . . . . tell me, tell me, tell me lies.”  

The drones want the good life at someone else’s expense.  They have visions of cheap, big houses and fields of sugarplums aplenty dancing in their heads.  The superior beings whisper these sweet little lies.  They have figured out how to deliver on the illusion of prosperity – taxation, inflation and borrowing.  Their rhetoric costs them nothing other than credibility and integrity.   Those drones keep right on delivering the truly sweet nectar – the sweat of their brow.  This nectar coupled with power is intoxicating to politicians.  

Does this make them superior beings capable of running the world?  Perhaps they are a teensy bit smarter in the respect that they always manage to land on a cushy, golden, taxpayer subsidized seat when the music stops.  They are in possession of all the “get out of jail free” cards and have their own backsides covered at all times.  (Do you think one of them will be hurting when this “Empire of Debt” America has become implodes?)  They’re not any smarter--more sly, yes--but inheriting the family business doesn’t make you smarter than the next fellow.  

Jack Abramoff knew how to play this game very well.  He was like a second generation sly fox.  He didn’t bother to tap dance for “the people.”  He was a politician’s politician, and knew how the game in Washington was played; who the winners were and what you had to do to be one of them.  In fact, if they held special Olympics for sly foxes, Abramoff would win the triathlon gold for cunning, utter lack of integrity and delivering the goods at someone else’s expense.  He was a better closer than Kyra Sedgwick.  (Ironically, politics is one sport where women can do as much damage as men without benefit of a handicap.)  

* * * * *  

If this were the end of it, it would merely be a sad tale.  Luckily, problems arise when the hives begin to turn up empty.  Not everyone is happy to be a drone – the IRS says millions have stopped paying income tax.  Some recognize that they are individuals and get the crazy notion that they can gather nectar for themselves and their own hive, asking nothing of anyone.  They quietly go about their own business, raising their own children, providing for themselves and their future.  They don’t want free vaccines, schooling or safety nets.  How selfish can they get?  Don’t they understand that if we all pile on, we can all have everything for free?  

Are you disillusioned because your man was a winner last election cycle and you have yet to take delivery on that brand new set of promises?  C’mon, jolly old St. Nick knows who’s been naughty and who’s been nice – can he help it if those partisan elves won’t cooperate?  This is just a political hangover.  Keep doing the same thing over and over – one day the outcome is sure to change for the better.  

Maybe your man didn’t win.  Ah, well, we’ll get ‘em next time.  Then we’ll show them what our superior being can do!  Just make sure you get out and vote and stay busy trying to convince others to do the same.  Try to make them understand that your man really isn’t a politician – he really cares about drones.  Oh, and try to ignore those others out there living dangerously--pursuing life, liberty and happiness on their own.  Remember, there is no “I” in democracy.