Death of a Nation, Take Two

Anyone alert to the mass movements of shuffling zombies in America will notice that the Undead have received fresh programming and are stirring. Yes, the garbage is swirling down the drains, both Left and Right—which means it’s “election time” (selection time, more accurately—stolen votes, anyone?), and you can see the walking corpses mobilizing by these prefab sides of the so-called political spectrum, pushing the garbage along and beckoning to feed off the flesh of the last of the alert and living, those whose brain cells are still showing signs of electrical activity.

A macabre picture? Not half as macabre as the stage shows served up at the recent Democratic and Republican conventions. Allow me to put on some hob-nailed boots and step on everyone’s toes: this truly is a nation of decay, worshipping death on the installment plan, to revive the phrase of Louis-Ferdinand Céline. “In God we trust” runs the country’s slogan, but the reality is a continuous homage to Kali, goddess of death, whose earrings are the corpses of children, and who sports a garland of severed hands around her waist, blood dripping from her tongue. René Guénon’s description of a Kali Yuga for this modern age rings true on several symbolical levels, and perhaps hints at primal energies which pass beyond the symbolic, which embody something actual which is being played out before our very eyes—something we intuit but cannot define.

Let’s look at the Right first, the “party of life.” Yes, the Right Wingers defend babies (at least by lip service)—unless the babies happen to be in another country, in which case they just might be targets of post-natal abortion by Air Force bombs. No problem then; no tears shed, no placards of protest with graphic visuals. Shredding children? Not an issue: hey, it’s “collateral damage.” What is important is “victory,” as we heard at this puppet-show convention of the Cryptocracy. Kali’s garland of severed hands might as well adorn the Republican Party.

Now let’s look at the “humanitarian” Left Wing. Here we find objections to war (at least by lip service)—but babies are not a concern. Let’s leave aside the Nancy Pelosi distraction about Saint Augustine not knowing when a baby receives a soul: let’s take a straight, hard look at partial birth abortion, which—call it what you like—is plain baby snuffing (to those who pull out an arcane quibble about the onset of personhood, I will simply quote Groucho Marx: “Who are you going to believe: me, or your own eyes?” Sorry, that one’s a baby). These clinical deaths are cases where the life of a child is settled by geography—the fully formed infant is partly inside the mother versus completely outside. But is that any different from the Right, where the life of a baby, or a mother, or a child, is settled in a war by—geography?

Since protecting these children was not on the table at the recent Democratic puppet-show convention of the Cryptocracy (quite the opposite), we can gaze up at Kali’s earrings—the corpses of the young—and see the same god worshipped by the Right, only turned to the opposite profile, Janus-like. Both parties are on board for the death of someone; they just argue about who. Truly, in Kali we trust.

What we really have here are two sides, the kabbalistic “Left” and “Right,” which are twin forks of a fascination with blood spilled on a grand, life-sucking altar, preferably by grotesque means hidden from actual view, but enjoyed vicariously and safely later (on prescription meds) by the fictional substitution of movies and television and Internet clips—all of which keeps the American zombies pacified and satiated. This is truly a nation of death and decay. It is the fitting abode of zombies; the only question is how much stench the living can still take—and for how long.