George Santayana once said:
“Progress, far from consisting in change, depends on retentiveness. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”
I think that is mostly crap. I think that there are only so many plays in the play book that work… and the coaches, spectators and players all know it. Repeats are a given in the game of governing man. ”Retentiveness”, never being 20/20, is always colored by the what ifs and the hope that Springs Eternal within the breast of every budding megalomaniac.
Somewhere, out there in this vast and proud land of ours, you would be wise to realize, the “Candidates” are thinking and making their plans.
I went to bed early last night, troubled in mind with the plight of America. My nation and home to eight generations of my progenitors was unraveling and becoming as economically nonviable as it was culturally ungovernable. As I drifted, uncomfortably, into a state of immobility and altered consciousness I was transported into a new and proudly different America.
My vision was never entirely clear, but, the gist of the reality was that America had become an “Economo-Theocratic Totalitarian State. There were pictures of what appeared to be Mitt Romney everywhere. It wasn’t until later that I learned, in bits and pieces, how it all came to pass. How information technology and Mass-Media, under the control of international Mormon financial trusts and armed with the science of social engineering tamed the cultural mutt that America had become.
In the early fall of 2011, unemployment rates above 20% and China’s announcement that they would, henceforth, no longer be bankrolling America precipitated a financial collapse the government was helpless to contain. In panic, mobs of gun toting citizens looted grocery stores and delivery trucks. The streets of America hemorrhaged with the blood of its citizens. Local authorities were helpless to restore order. It was then that the earthquake hit San Francisco with the largest one day loss of life in modern history.
It was a day that had been foretold. One group and one group alone had prepared by stockpiling one years worth of foodstuffs for their extended families. One group had planned and infiltrated the executive offices and Board Rooms of key media, energy, software, transportation and computer manufacturing corporations. David Neeleman, CEO of JetBlue, Stewart Nelson of Novell Technology, James Peterson CEO, Microsemi Corp. (military components), Kevin B. Rollins former CEO, Dell Computer, Brent Scowcroft (former National Security Advisor), L.E. Simmons, Chairman Oil States International (a leading provider of specialty products and services to oil and gas drilling and production companies throughout the world.)…
One group alone was prepared. They had been preparing for decades. They were The Mormons.
Tales and stories of “The Dark Months” that followed the collapse of American Civilization were known to all. The Holy Video of Jesus Christ, hand delivering the Golden Tablets with “New” Commandments for God’s Children on Earth to the Elder Counsel in Salt Lake City played continuously on television for weeks. Miracles occurred daily and were extensively investigated and reported upon by Mormon controlled media outlets. The day of the Church of Latter-Day Saints had come to pass. America’s only home grown brand of Christianity, with millions of youthful operatives called “Missionaries” already in the field, restored order by distributing food and proclaiming “The Beginning Times” . Jesus had returned. His return had signified a new beginning for mankind and a new dawn for America. Millions, drunk on religion, flocked to the Mormon fold and were absorbed. It was then that the Elders announced who God had chosen to lead His people to prosperity undreamed of and everlasting.
As in all dreams, this one was convoluted, twisted and didn’t always make sense. I remember it now as flashes of insight and fragments of scenes I witnessed or took part in myself. The burning of the beauty parlors and the open condemnation of all things judged to be unmanly or unwomanly. The news reports that only Mormons escaped the Divine devastation of San Francisco unscathed. Multitudes of humanity dressed alike. Men in dark dress slacks, white shirts and dark ties. Women in long skirts with long braids down their back and the reintroduction of plural marriage for corporate CEOs and Military commanders.
My head swam. The endless parades of “Saints” (missionaries) and “Heros” (military personnel) and the incessant blaring of old Donny & Marie Osmond records from loud speakers made concentration impossible. Everyone smiled. Everyone went to church. Everyone worked where the church assigned them and all were fed through the beneficence of The Church of Latter-Day Saints. Not to be “of the Church” was not to partake of the “New Beginning”. Not to be “of the Church” and its teachings and its leadership was to sabotage God’s plan. Not to be “of the Church” was, sooner rather than later, not to be.
I remember running and running, with hot fear rising in my throat, from smiling pictures of Mitt Romney. On every TV, on every billboard, on posters pasted to flat surfaces everywhere it was Mitt.. MITT… MITT! I had just heard the stories of the camps where homosexuals, coffee & tea drinkers, unwed mothers and those found in possession of Grateful Dead records were being detained for re-education.
My lungs were on fire. I had just escaped a gang of identically dressed missionaries who had been tailing me all day. I stood beneath a huge sign, on a hilltop outside Los Angeles. With no memory of how I had begun, or why, I found myself drawing a black Hitler mustache on a poster of Mitt Romney affixed to one of the supports of the giant white letters that loomed above me. It was at that moment that I felt my pants yanked down around my knees. I heard the youthful voice proclaim… “Just as we thought! NO magic Mormon underpants! AND COMMITTING BLASPHEMY! We must bring him to the Elders of the Church immediately. ”Mitt preserve us.” Said the one and all others followed suit.
As they dragged me down the mountain to a waiting Church van with red, white and blue lights blinking on top, I caught my first glimpse of the sign on the mountain from far enough away to make out its meaning.
It read [HOLLYWOOD]. The once palatial homes that made up the neighborhood where the Church van was idling in wait had been looted and most had been burned. The van door slammed. I was told to pray.
I awoke in my own bed with my heart racing and in a cold sweat. My hands were trembling. There were black magic marker stains all over my fingers.