As the years go by, I find that more and more of my friends agree with socialism, at least to an extent (most likely the extent that benefits them). They don’t tend to approve of government intrusion into their private lives, yet they love free college education and health care. But who doesn’t love free stuff? In a country where people can vote to elect themselves free stuff (or vote to elect representatives who will vote them free stuff), they’ll do it. They’ll rarely consider the strings attached, which usually are the strings of government intrusion in their lives.
I hate discussing politics on the internet. I hate it because it leaves love out of the picture. In an actual, physical reality, I can logically debate with friends in a non-hostile environment. After we agree to disagree, we can share our mutual love for literature and serve each other ice cream and cake. But on the internet, we’re removed from each other, removed from our facial expressions that assure us we don’t bear malice toward each other. And, so, aside from a few knee-jerk bursts, I’ve avoided politics online. I simply can’t take the instant and negative responses from people I love. It empties out the cave in my soul that tends toward nihilism. On the other hand, I don’t care either way whether I net instant and negative responses from strangers. For that, I should have created a pseudonymous persona a long time ago. However, that’s not my way, either. I’m a little too aggressive to hide behind a false persona.
I’m also a little too aggressive to continue on in this manner. After years and years of debate, it’s clear that I and others of my libertarian ilk have lost the battle. Government control under the auspice of free stuff is what the people have demanded, and with the free stuff comes intrusion, not to mention inequality and injustice. I’ve lost. And I can’t claim it doesn’t make me angry. It doesn’t make me angry at you, my friends. You–or, at least, some of you–have desired these things for honorable reasons. Also, you are intelligent people who simply cling to ideals while I cling to cynicism. But I still can’t claim it doesn’t make me angry.
It makes me angry and inevitably reminds me of an image imprinted in my mind, one that’s remained there for years. Some time ago, the schools in my state decided they should have access to the state’s rainy day, emergency fund. They put it on the ballot and won, as they usually do, even though the schools have a history of sucking dry everything they’re given and then demanding more to satiate their excessive thirst. But I remember watching the school teachers marching out their demands in a parade, and as one passed close to me, I could see the glee on her face–the disgusting glee of somebody who knows she’ll be able to rob the public coffers, and who doesn’t care what damage it does. It was all good to her because it was for a noble cause.
In the interest of my own health, I’m going to be honest. All this suppressed frustration and rage in my soul isn’t good for me. I’m allowed, at least, to be pissed off. I’m allowed to be pissed when the government spies on me. I’m allowed to be pissed when they regulate the food supply to prevent me from making an informed choice on food, while simultaneously rewarding corporate agriculture. Next year at tax time, I will be allowed my red rage at being forced to take part in Obamacare’s individual mandate. You, who wanted it, who displayed your rage at me for not wanting it–I’m telling you it’s my turn.
What does this have to do with science fiction, anyway? I don’t know; I forgot. I was too busy getting in touch with my rage. Oh, yeah–I watched Oblivion the other night with my husband. I loved it. It’s one of the best science fiction films I’ve seen in a long time. The story was subtle, yet the archetypes spot-on. This post was supposed to be about the movie, which gives a nice picture of what happens to people who fight against the beast of government control, and what happens to the people who wake up from being worker drones. Rage. Ah, well. Diversionary tactics have a way of blowing up, don’t they?