Tired old man we elected king
Who is John McCain? Can a pugnacious penguin, a tortured bravo, really rule this increasingly complex behemosity known as Amerika? Merrik, you Young Empire, do you want an Old Man to lead you, the Fortunate Son of admirals, the hero locked in bamboo cages? Shall we let the Son of the Jungle loose on the Men of the Deserts? What does he know of warfare and empire? How can he mistake Shia from Sunni? How can he minimize the true complexity of these issues?
ZR says bomb Iran, and misses the complexity of the issue. He does not see the other side. He does not sit in their shoes. To defeat your enemy, you must become your enemy, and the greatest defeat is to make him your friend — shall Persia stand up to the Colossus? We tremble at their shoutings, but oh how they must tremble at ours — we have them encircled — increasingly incircled — and we wonder that they are jumpy?
And what of My People, the Children of Abraham, People of the Sword, nervous in Masada?
I love them, my love for them is eternal, my heart rests in Jerusalem, but, but, but — we must follow Jacob and dwell in the house of Laban, not Esau who dies by the sword.
And so then, the King I Choose, the Secret Wanderer who has been chosen by Destiny, the Contingent One, Who Exists Because America Exists. He is our Favorite Son, the Voice of the New Tomorrow, the Bringer of Hope.
Tomorrow comes, and with it death and dust and destruction but also life, and love, and beauty. We must turn towards the beauty and away from the dust — we must sit in the tents of our fathers, and let them wash the dust from our feet – and we must make merry, and eat good food, and rejoice — and we must love each other, and see beyond the bone-fences that hem us in and see and take our place among the starborn beings who, through the shocking surprise of their contingency, delight the silent watchers who sit beyond. That these things matter to us, and will one day matter to others. That the sun shines on us, and will one day shine on others.
The universe is cold, but there is warmth in it, and in that warmth, the warmth of future days, the promise of the continuation, we must take comfort.