The Liberal Genie
5450 Words | September 15 2014 |
|
4 likes
Many, many generations ago there existed a happy, colorful land named San Francisco. In a tranquil corner of this land--adjacent to a coffeehouse specializing in hashish confections--was an old secondhand bookshop. It was unassuming, yet beguiling, with its euphonious chimes that greeted the patrons at the door, its atmosphere of sweet incense, and its soft couches, which offered many coffeehouse patrons a comfortable place to slumber as they dreamed of revolution. It was a charming shop--quite literally, since The Proprietress had decorated it with charms and artifacts collected from peoples among whom she had traveled to witness firsthand the evils of cultural imperialism.

Ah, The Proprietress! She was a pleasant lady. Though she was getting on in years, she was still as free a spirit as she had been in her youth, allowing her long, long hair, liberated and unrestrained, to fall to her waist, just like her breasts. It was on one summer evening in 1968, when she was raising her consciousness, that she had first conjured the vision of her bookshop. It was to be a pansophic oasis--a home of all learning and wisdom, where those who craved Enlightenment could congregate, and, together, imbibe knowledge and herbal beverages.

And so it turned out to be. In her quest to collect all of the world's knowledge, The Proprietress had traveled far and wide, experiencing all that was to be experienced, and collecting as many books as she could, as well as the artifacts with which she decorated her shop. In the interests of free inquiry, this admirable bibliophile had made sure to assemble works that ran the philosophical gamut, from Adorno to Zizek. This veritable Solomon's House gave the inquisitive mind access to all those thinkers who were worth reading, including Brecht, Dewey, Heidegger, and Althusser; and Marx, Foucault, Fanon, and Marcuse. And Lenin and Benjamin; Mead and Said; Bhabha and Derrida; Sartre and Barthes; and Gramsci, Trotsky, and Chomsky. And let's not forget the ladies: Luxemburg, Beauvoir, Friedan, Sontag, Franken. This was all that the truly educated individual ever needed. For decades, the bookshop fulfilled its purpose of fostering Enlightenment, and all was well in this quiet corner of San Fran.

Yet, gradually, things changed. As the years rolled by, fewer and fewer people patronized the humble shop. Eventually, even The Students--who had once been its most loyal patrons--stopped coming. What had happened? Scholars have reached the consensus that the patrons, all of whom were specimens of the political animal known as The Liberal, had evolved beyond their fellow human beings, and, indeed, had grown so superior--had reached such an advanced stage of Enlightenment--that one could, without exaggeration, declare them to be practically perfect in every way, like Mary Poppins. As the fully Enlightened, they no longer needed to read. After all, why read when you already know everything?

This development left our poor Proprietress in a terrible mess. She was heavily in debt, and she had no income, so--sad but stoical--she determined that she would sell her beloved shop. Alas, because the demand for books had disappeared, no one wanted to buy a bookshop. In fact, the only potential buyer was a bizarre middle-aged Dutchman who wanted to put up a novelty shop, for which there was plenty of demand. And so the bookshop was sold. Because The Proprietress had no space in her home to store all of the books and artifacts, she decided that, in the last weeks of her shop's existence, she would sell them; and, if no one wanted to buy her treasures, so be it--she would just give them away.

There were few takers. But just a few days before the poor shop's liquidation, a man and his daughter sauntered inside--which had grave implications for the future of the human race.

As the man stood at the checkout counter, paying for a Michael Moore romance novel, he asked his daughter--a cute little cherub who had just turned four--if she would like to have any of the exotic, mysterious objects that the kind old lady was selling. He picked up his daughter and sat her on the counter, so that she could more closely examine those on the shelf, and choose the one she wanted. The Little Girl scanned the collection for only a few seconds when her eyes encountered an object that she had recently seen in a cartoon that she came to hold in very high esteem. She pointed at it and exclaimed, "Genie!"

The Proprietress and her customer laughed heartily.

"No, no, sweetie," said The Proprietress, "that's just an old oil lamp. There's no genie inside."

"But in the movie it said if you rub the lamp a genie comes out," protested the child.

"Oh, but that was just a movie," The Proprietress replied with a chuckle. "It wasn't real. We can't have such superstitions, not in the modern world we can't. We must be rational."

"Ma'am," interjected the equally amused father, "you mean to tell me that you've never even tried to rub it yourself--I mean, just for kicks?"

"Oh, goodness, no!"

"Not even once, just to get it off your chest? You must've thought about it."

"Certainly not!"

"Not even just to clean it?"

"No, I've never, ever rubbed it!"

"Well, then we'll just have to find out for ourselves, won't we pumpkin?"

The man then bought the lamp, and handed it to his overjoyed daughter, who feverishly rubbed it until her diminutive palm grew red and began to sting. Nothing emanated from the dingy old lamp--nothing at all, not even a puff of smoke.

"I guess that's that," The Proprietress said.

For the father and daughter, the rest of the afternoon was entirely unexceptional. They went back home, where the parents had a nice laugh about the episode with the lamp--"The genie might just be very shy, hon," the mother posited--but The Little Girl was not the slightest bit amused. She was sullen even during dinner, when she barely touched Daddy's signature tofu sushi. She even volunteered to go to bed early that night, so upset was she about how the day had unfolded.

As she lay on her bed, cozily wrapped in her Inconvenient Truth sheets, and on the verge of a most peaceful and refreshing slumber, The Little Girl heard a strange whistling sound, and--more out of curiosity than of fear--she sat up and looked around her room, searching for the source of the strange sound. Her head turned toward her nightstand, and there she saw a man--a somewhat skinny and awkward bronze-complexioned man, crowned with a snow-flecked buzz cut, and wearing a long-sleeved shirt, his collar unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up--just quietly standing there, with his hands in his pockets and his head tilted up toward the ceiling, as if contemplating the mysteries of the universe.

"Are you a genie?" asked The Little Girl.

The man, startled out of his reverie, looked down upon the child, smiled benevolently, and said, "Even better. I am The Liberal Genie."

The Little Girl was slightly confused, so, for a moment, she just sat in her bed and stared at the genie, until she finally said, "Why didn't you come when I rubbed the lamp?"

"Ah, good question. The reason is that I must be alone with my beneficiary in order to appear to him or her. No one else but you can see me, until your three wishes are used and you pass me on to my next beneficiary. Oh yeah, I forget to go into that other stuff." The genie cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. "Let me be perfectly clear: you have three, and only three wishes. I promise to grant you whatever you desire, for I have great power, and nothing is beyond my reach. There is but one caveat: choose your wishes wisely, for once you have used all three, this opportunity will never arise again. Now, what do you desire?"

"Candy," The Little Girl immediately answered.

"Candy?!" exclaimed the flabbergasted genie. "Candy?! Don't you know what that stuff will do to you? Why, it'll give you cavities, and make you overweight, and later in life you'll get all sorts of terrible diseases, like hypertension and diabetes. You'll become a burden on society, as the wonderful, compassionate government will have to foot the bill for treatment of these totally preventable diseases. I can't just let you, y'know, slake your selfish whims and passions at the expense of The Community! Come on, I know you can make selfless wishes; why, you're a child, and The Children are pure--society hasn't corrupted them yet--and they're natural Liberals. So you want to change your wish, don't you?"

"No."

"What is wrong with you? Didn't your parents tell you that you shouldn't eat candy?"

The Little Girl shook her head.

"Oh. I should've known. They've gotten to you already. You simply can't trust your parents. Let me explain it to you. You see, they're bourgeois; society, the means of production, whatever, have put certain values in their minds. They're, like, automatons, just doing what convention has dictated. They can't help themselves, and they won't change until they have, y'know, their consciousness raised by the vanguard elite, thus moving us to the next stage of history. The problem is that in the meantime, they're passing those bourgeois values on to you, and, unfortunately, helping to program a whole new generation, just like they themselves were programmed. That's why we really need a public education system, and especially public funding for college; that way, you can drop your, like, preconceived notions--y'know, your prejudices--and become Enlightened, so that you can be an agent of Change. You haven't started school yet, have you?"

She stared at him blankly and shook her head again.

"Just as I thought. Well, when you do, you'll learn all sorts of wonderful things. Y'know, this might shock you, but I, myself, wasn't always Enlightened. By the look on your face, I can see that you're impressed with my knowledge and wisdom, but I wasn't always like this. I received my education during all those years when I was in the bookshop, trapped in that lamp, with nothing to do but listen to The Students' brilliant discussions. There, I learned all there is to know about politics, economics, and society. I learned about the injustices and inequities of The System--y'know, how through globalization, America has imposed its values on other peoples, threatening or even wiping out so many beautiful cultures; how, in its quest for profits, it has fostered oppression by backing right-wing extremists, and how it has generally stood in the way of international Progress and harmony. Y'know, the spread of the capitalist world order has allowed The Corporations to exploit Third World peoples, and destroy The Environment, and ruin the whole world." The genie then raised a clenched fist above his head and grew even more impassioned, preaching so quickly that he could barely articulate his words in sequence. "We need a revolution! No justice no peace! We need to remake society, to transform humanity, to fix our souls, so that all people learn to see each other as brothers and sisters--so that we finally learn that we must care for the poor and the sick, which our unjust System has created and then shamefully ignored! We need to go even further! We need to spread the wealth, and eradicate inequality! We need--finally and once and for all--Social Justice!" After pausing to catch his breath he concluded, "So make your wishes accordingly."

The Little Girl replied, "Can I have a Barbie?"

"No, no, no, you don't understand!" rejoined the genie. "To begin with, Barbie dolls are sexist and exploitative. It's those disgusting Corporations again. They make toys that, like, objectify women, and deceive girls into believing that they have to meet an impossibly high standard of physical beauty to find social approval. And it's not just dolls--the, y'know, marketing agencies and Hollywood, and all the rest, are equally guilty. So I can't grant your wish--for your own good--since I don't want you to have crippling self-esteem issues when you hit puberty and continue to mature. You might become anorexic or bulimic or something, or have a plastic surgery nightmare--whatever. So I just can't do it. And, again, I want you to make wishes that will promote not your narrow, selfish interests, but Social Justice instead."

"Um, can I have a pony?"

"Kid, what would PETA say? You're not understanding what I want you to do!" He knelt in front of her and, this time, explained it slowly. "I want you to wish for something that will benefit the collective. I want you to sacrifice. Don't tell me what you want personally, so that you can satisfy your, y'know, superficial, materialistic wants. Instead, do something for the good of the whole--promote Social Justice. Now tell me what you really wish for. If you want, I can even give you some suggestions."

But the child then said, "No. I'm sleepy and I want to go beddy-bye."

And so she did.

The Little Girl was quite disappointed with her demanding and stubborn genie, so the next morning, she gave the lamp to her big brother, a spirited Teenager. She told him that there really was a genie inside the lamp after all, which would appear once he rubbed it, but she neglected to mention that the genie could be uncooperative at times.

At first, The Teenager thought that his baby sis was being childish and ridiculous--her imagination was acting up again. But then he thought that he might as well give it a shot--after all, it wouldn't do any harm, and if he was fooled, no one would ever know. So, reprising a familiar routine, he locked his door and rubbed the lamp.

Sure enough, out came the genie, and he introduced himself thusly: "Greetings! I am The Liberal Genie. Oh, I see that you're all grown-up--that's wonderful! Your sister is just too young; she hasn't started school yet, and so she just doesn't know how to use her wishes wisely. But you, on the other hand, have been in our wonderful public schools for years, haven't you?"

"Yeah; so what?"

"Well, you've been tutored by the hardworking, selfless Liberal teachers. Don't you see? You've been properly Enlightened! You know that you have to sacrifice, and you yearn for Social Justice. I have no doubt that you'll put all the beliefs that you've been given to good use, and direct my powers for the good of personkind."

"Whatever, man. I'm, like, your master, and you have to do whatever I want, right?"

"Now, hold on a second. I would prefer that you refrain from using the term 'master.' You see, that's an insensitive term. It implies, y'know, a politically incorrect power hierarchy. It implies that I'm your slave. I prefer if you would refer to yourself as my 'beneficiary,' and to me as your 'provider.'" The Teenager rolled his teenage eyes, but the genie didn't notice. Instead, he continued to lecture his new beneficiary. "I think now would be a good time to review the rules." He cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. "Let me be perfectly clear: you have three, and only three wishes. I promise to grant you whatever you desire, for I have great power, and nothing is beyond my reach. There is but one caveat: choose your wishes wisely, for once you have used all three, this opportunity will never arise again. Now, what do you desire?"

The Teenager did not hesitate. "The first thing I want is a really hot babe. I want her to be a brunette, about five feet, nine inches tall, and one hundred and ten pounds. And make her a 38-22-36."

"Whoa, whoa, wait another second," interjected the genie. "I had to go over this with your little sister. What is wrong with your parents that they would put these backward, sexist ideas in the minds of their own children?! Women aren't objects, y'know. You have to learn how to respect--"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, douche," replied the teen. "Will you give me the chick or not?"

"As a feminist I cannot."

"Fine, be that way! Let me try something else then. How about money? Gimme--let's see here--how much is the world's richest man worth? How about sixty-five billion dollars? That should cover it."

"Okay, sixty-five billion dollars; I can do that. Who do you want me to spread it among?"

"What?!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I mean, among whom do you want me to spread it?"

"What the heck are you talking about? I want you to give it to me, idiot!"

"But that just can't be done!"

"Why, because I'll, like, cause inflation or something?"

"No, no, I don't mind that--that's not what I mean. What I mean is that you're greatly disappointing me. Your selfish and greedy wish would exacerbate the unequal distribution of wealth. Why, you're behaving just like those uncompassionate, exploitative capitalist pigs! I thought that you would be different--that you would use my great powers to promote Social Justice. If you're having trouble with that lofty goal, then let me give you some suggestions. You need to spread this wealth around. So, for example, how about you wish for a sixty-five billion dollar welfare program?"

"Crap!" exclaimed The Teenager. "This genie's broken!"

Not having any use for the defective genie, The Teenager decided that he would try to sell or trade him to one of his friends, which he tried to do the following afternoon, when these scientifically inclined high-schoolers met at the beach for their customary chick-watching expedition. Alas, there were no buyers, since none of the sophisticated teens believed their friend's claim that the lamp contained a genie, and besides, at the moment, each one was far more interested in rubbing something other than a lamp. Tired of carrying around the lamp, The Teenager just tossed it over his shoulder, and walked away.

Would the genie be left to languish in the hot sand, unknown and unappreciated? No! Fate was far kinder to this redeemer of mankind--I mean, personkind. For it just so happened that, not long after his ungrateful beneficiary had abandoned him, a small group of young adults encountered the lamp, and, out of curiosity, they picked it up and together began to brush the sand off of it. All of a sudden, out came the genie, and, relieved and overjoyed at having been rescued, he introduced himself and effusively thanked and praised his new beneficiaries.

"And to whom do I have the pleasure of providing my services?" the genie asked.

"Liberal Genie," replied one of the beneficiaries, "we are a group of graduate students trying to enjoy this beach before global warming destroys it."

The genie's excitement was boundless. He had finally found what he had long been searching for--beneficiaries who had already attained Enlightenment, and who could thus use the provider's awesome powers to the fullest. "At last!" he exclaimed. "At last I have the attention of a truly Virtuous Liberal--er, I should say, Liberals! Listen, and listen carefully, for we have no time to waste. The world has suffered long enough, and now that we have the opportunity to fix it, we must not endure a moment's delay." The genie cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. "Let me be perfectly clear: you have three, and only three wishes. I promise to grant you whatever you desire, for I have great power, and nothing is beyond my reach. There is but one caveat: choose your wishes wisely, for once you have used all three, this opportunity will never arise again. I urge you to use them to promote Social Justice. Now tell me, what do you desire?"

The Enlightened grad students were thrilled. They had found what they had been searching for, just like The Liberal Genie. They had finally discovered someone who had enough power to enact their long-held wishes, to realize their dreams, their ideals, their Hopes. For what had seemed like ages--ever since high school--they had been mere bystanders, observing with mounting frustration the inability of the old guard to produce meaningful Change. The rich, the privileged, the powerful, the special interests had maintained the whole rotten capitalistic and imperialistic fraud, stymieing the forces of Progress, and preventing the establishment of the regime of Social Justice. But now that the grad students had power of their own, things were different. Unlike the Neanderthals who had obstructed their quest for Change, they had actually paid attention in class, imbibing all the knowledge they ever needed to know. Their teachers had trained them well. They knew just what to do.

"I know just what to do," said The Virtuous Liberal. "My first wish is for the redistribution of wealth." The Liberal Genie felt shivers up and down his leg as his beneficiary continued. "Let me give you some details so that you know what I have in mind. I want the permanent establishment of a steeply progressive tax structure so that The Rich finally pay their Fair Share. We have to increase income taxes, capital gains taxes, estate taxes, impose a value added tax, and--and--well, we'll think of some new ones."

"Surtaxes!" one of the other beneficiaries ejaculated.

"Yeah, that's it--surtaxes, and corporate taxes, and cigarette taxes--whatever. We have to use the state to expropriate the expropriators. The Rich have stolen all their money from The Poor, and made them, well, like, y'know, more poor. We'll use these revenues to--what's the word?--invest billions of dollars on social programs for The Less Fortunate, including a public health insurance system, which the masses have irrationally opposed for too long, when it's actually about time that they matured and realized that we have to provide for our fellows--that we have to be our brothers'--and sisters'--keepers.

"Which brings me to my second, and related, wish: the expansion of the government's power to direct private property for social ends. We must regulate all business activity to control all these greedy fat cats, and to ensure the proper use of resources, which can't be trusted to the chaotic marketplace. The government has to control everything that is harmful to people and to the environment. We need to impose a smoking ban, to regulate trans fats in restaurants, to control the nutritional content of foods, to impose a cap-and-trade system to regulate greenhouse gas emissions--in fact, to use the state to significantly reduce the use of all fossil fuels and nuclear power too, and to subsidize wind and solar power so that we stop warming the planet. We have no choice; there are no alternatives!

"My third and final wish is for disarmament at home and abroad. Americans need to evolve beyond their petty, parochial concerns--like their obsession over their gun rights. In their wisdom, the Founding Fathers framed a Living, Breathing Constitution, and I'm sure that if they were around today, they'd agree that their original provisions are outmoded, and that we thus have the authority to impose new meanings on the old words as we please. We need drastic gun control--maybe even a ban. As for foreign relations, we need to lead from behind rather than, y'know, lead. Just like The Rich have exploited The Poor, America has exploited the other nations of the world. We must stop imposing our values on Others, and we have to stop thinking of ourselves as a superpower. We are no more exceptional than any other country, and we should reduce our own power, so that all nations, like all persons, are equal. We have to get rid of our nuclear arsenal, and scrap our missile defense system. We need to divert our resources from war and imperialism to social services at home." The passionate beneficiary paused to catch his breath, and then he concluded, "That, Liberal Genie, is what I wish for."

The genie was in a state of ecstasy, for, with a snap of his fingers, he would finally, once and for all, establish the utopia for which he had long yearned. He lifted his hand into the air, pressed his thumb against his middle finger, and then--

"Wait!" someone shouted.

One of the grad students, a young man named Cass, had interrupted the majestic proceedings. He stepped forward and timidly said, "You shouldn't do this so abruptly. Wait a little while so we can think this through, because maybe these policies might have some bad unintended consequences--perhaps."

"Oh really?!" said The Virtuous Liberal.

"Yeah!" seconded the genie. "Don't you want Change? Do you just want to maintain the status quo?"

"What if these changes are harmful?" asked Cass. "What if gun control leaves a greater share of all the guns in the hands of criminals who won't obey gun control laws, making it harder for the law-abiding to defend themselves? And your defense policies will place this country at the mercy of some really bad people out there."

"How can you say that?!" exclaimed one of the students.

"And your new taxes and regulations will just make it harder to create and expand businesses, and the result will be more unemployment and more poverty. Expanding welfare won't make people's lives better; it'll just make them dependent on the state so that they can't do anything for themselves anymore."

The grad students and the genie were amazed at Cass's ignorance, with some of them showing their disbelief by throwing their arms up in the air and emitting little snorts of derision.

"How can you be so cruel and heartless as to oppose our attempts to help people?" the genie asked, with a pained look on his face--that look that Liberals make to show the depth of their feeling (you know the one).

"Yeah, what is wrong with you?" said The Virtuous Liberal. "And, for your information, Liberal policies never fail. I know this because Paul Krugman said so--and he's a Princeton economist and Nobel Prize winner, so whatever he says must be right. It's your stupid free market policies that fail."

"No, that's not true; it's our relatively free market that has made this country the most prosperous in history. And all over the world, freeing up economies even a little has resulted in greater prosperity and less poverty."

The grad students and the genie were growing ever more frustrated at Cass's perverseness, at his failure to listen to reason and to see the error of his ways, at his seeming inability to accept the truth--that is, the grandeur that is Liberalism. The genie and most of his beneficiaries were content with merely shaking their heads in both disappointment and pity, but The Virtuous Liberal began to feel genuine indignation at Cass's stubborn nescience.

"It's always the market with you people!" he exclaimed. "The truth is that the common good comes before the private good. And The People are finally realizing that we have to sacrifice selfish individualism in favor of public right."

"Who gets to decide what's in the common good?" asked Cass. "We all have different beliefs about that, and your attempts to impose one answer on all of us will lead only to oppression and strife. The only truly common good is liberty under law."

"You just don't know what you're talking about," The Virtuous Liberal responded.

"You should read some books before you decide to talk to me about this stuff again. I suppose you also think that everything is all just a big government conspiracy, right? You should become Enlightened for a change."

At that, Cass lost his temper and shouted, "You arrogant asshole!"

The Liberals gasped and murmured among themselves, in shock that anyone could be so "Mean-Spirited," while the incensed Virtuous Liberal exclaimed, "How dare you insult me?!"

"Yeah, are you crazy or something?" said the genie.

"Your tone is extreme and beyond the pale, Cass," one young lady said. "I think you'd better go."

Cass stared at those whom he had thought were his friends. After that last rebuke, no one spoke to him. Another young lady wouldn't even look at him. Meanwhile, The Virtuous Liberal was smirking, having emerged as the victor. And so Cass slinked away, defeated, humiliated, and dehumanized by his moral and intellectual superiors, whom he left basking in their own compassion and righteousness.

With the troglodyte gone, The Liberals could resume their mission of perfecting the world. The excited genie could wait no longer, so, without ceremony, he snapped his fingers, turned to his beneficiaries, smiled, and proclaimed, "It's done! Your wishes have come true, and I have fulfilled my destiny!"

The fates of the genie and his virtuous beneficiaries--these saviors of personkind--are unknown. All that we do know is that soon after he granted the beneficiaries' wishes, the genie decided to relax by smoking a cigarette, which prompted the beneficiaries--afraid that the secondhand smoke would give them cancer--to banish him from their midst. After that, they and their provider disappeared from the historical record.

But they did leave us such a wonderful legacy. It is they whom we have to thank for our many blessings, such as our crushing, Sisyphean debt, and our extreme taxes--after all, the more we have to pay, the more generous and patriotic we can consider ourselves to be. And so what if there are more poor and unemployed people than before? The more of them there are, the more objects for our compassion we have. You claim that there is less opportunity for individual effort and achievement; fewer intact families; less spirituality; and less voluntary and spontaneous benevolence, cooperation, and community feeling than there used to be? But the government is taking care of us, so what does it matter? There are more criminals, you say? Well, that just means that there are more lost souls to rehabilitate. And what does it matter if we are weak and vulnerable, and that our enemies attack us and our allies with impunity? These attacks merely provide more occasions for The People to come together in one glorious Community, and participate in displays of national solidarity. Nor should we worry about little things like inflation, stagnation, shrinking real incomes; for, in contrast to the bad old days, we are all equal now--unhappy, resentful, disgusted, miserable, but equal in our unhappiness, resentment, disgust, and misery.

And besides, it doesn't matter if things don't go exactly according to plan. We mustn't judge The Liberals according to such pedestrian criteria as results. Rather, we must extol the loftiness of their visions and intentions. They are good, idealistic people. So what if they tax away our money, impoverish us for the sake of equality, grow government at the expense of our liberties, and oppress us for our own good? So what if they discriminate in the name of equality, keep the poor mired in dependency on the state, institutionalize covetousness for others' wealth and call it "welfare" (all while denouncing those who earned that wealth as the truly greedy), and foster grievances and discontent, pitting the races and the sexes and the classes against each other, by promoting the interests of some at the expense of others, all in the name of the common good? So what if they congratulate themselves for supporting human rights, while ignoring the plight of those living in radical states, and overlooking the depredations and depravities of certain favored cultures? And so what if, in the name of justice, they let criminals loose to prey on law-abiding citizens, and protest the executions of those who willfully took the lives of others? So what if they undermine free speech for the sake of political correctness, and persecute for the sake of tolerance, and, while applauding themselves for their own open-mindedness, replace education and free inquiry with indoctrination and dogma, training the young to distrust and reject the values of their families, their faiths, and their country? And so what if, while claiming to love humanity, they treat countless people with hatred, abuse, and contempt--so what if they say we have to understand our mortal enemies, while they unhesitatingly demonize those fellow citizens who happen to disagree with them, defaming these citizens as liars, stereotyping them as bigots, and browbeating them as bullies?

What do we have to complain about in this wonderful utopia of ours?
Liberty Island Creators depend on contributions from readers like you. If you like this Creator's work, please click here to hit their TipJar!
Joseph Magrisso is an attorney from Miami, Florida.

Review by kitman3
Mar 17 2015
 
Like This?
Great writing!
progressivism is the disease infecting our Republic!
Review by terrycshan
Oct 1 2014
Like This?
excellent point adroit writing.
This is an excellent piece, easy and quick to read. I definitely recommend it. It starts out with some of the best use of words I have seen and uses adroit writing skills, pulling the reader in. I was amazed.
The points being made are excellent. Near the half way mark, and in the end, the charming subtlety diminishes a little and the message may become a little too overt. The style reminds me, a little, of both Glenn Beck's, "Overton Window," and Jonathan Cahn's "The Harbinger." On the other hand, when we have these kinds of messages, it becomes difficult not to get a little overt. I am not sure how one could do much better. I am working on that myself.
Still, it is an excellent piece.
Review by uberetalis
Sep 18 2014
 
Like This?
Well Said