Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Friday, October 29, 2010

The Opinuary Column

The Opinion "And again I say to you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God*" has been stomped on, tasered, riddled with bullets, blown up by a drone aircraft, disappeared, tortured, maimed, squashed, violated, raped, shit upon, pummeled, decapitated, buggered, imprisoned, murdered, squashed, assassinated, disemboweled, poisoned, asphyxiated, lynched, pulverized, deleted, flayed, cremated, thrashed, throttled, torn apart, bombed and bitten to death. The richest bastards in the game have paid off the Lord, and the glittering palaces and majestic boulevards of the Heavenly Kingdom reflect the new owners' aesthetics: the Gates of Heaven have been reinforced with fools gold, forged in the fiery battlements of Hell. The Opinion was bought out during a hostile takeover, and heaven has never looked more malevolent, removed, cold and cruel. Yahweh/God has accepted his golden parachute and exited the building, to pursue adventures in lands not yet created, to work on projects that remain a mystery to us all.

The Opinion was born in a quaint little thatched hut built of morality and justice, wherein it thrived wondrously in its modest confines, and spent its early days laughing and running and playing, while keeping an eye upon the horizon for something it could not quite see. Upon reaching adulthood it left home and wandered the countryside, often spying the common folk who labored in the sun and shivered in the cold--such experiences reminded it that the mystery of being was no less complicated for the poor than for the rich, except that the ability to exploit one's fellow man increased with the concomitant increase in capital. The Opinion came to know that a tension existed in the world, one of tidal movements that surged and ebbed as the times changed, and that sometimes things had to get really bad before the tide could come back in and wash away the crimes of man. Sometimes the crimes were so bad that no single tide could do the job, and the sands at the edge of the sea glistened with blood and despair. No matter: the Opinion knew that humanity had a greater depth than mere wealth and power, and so was happy to remind anyone who would listen that flesh is fleeting, but the essence of the universe was an eternal one, and all who lived participated in that eternity, equally and fully.

Late in life the Opinion started drinking heavily, and after a series of bad investments found itself on the verge of bankruptcy. Unable to fend off its lenders, it sold its primary insight to the wealthiest people on the planet, who rewarded it by hiring a squad of goons to kill it just as soon as was humanly possible. Heaven is now filled with some of the wealthiest motherfuckers this world has ever known, even as children die forgotten in the streets, guilty of the crime of being poor and condemned to suffer. Paradise has been leveraged by Hell.

In lieu of flowers the family of the deceased would like lots and lots of money given to them, to spend as they see fit.

Arrangements by the Supreme Court of the United States of America.

*Matthew 19:24



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