Libertarianism: What You Don't Understand About it and Why

Let's face it.  I'll help you, here, because I know it's tough.  I want you to say: "I am an idiot."

Yeah, yeah, very funny.  Now, I don't want you to say "You're an idiot" again.  I want you to say "I am an idiot" those words precisely...very important for this exercise.

Go ahead, you can do it.

"I am an idiot."

See that wasn't so har--HEY WAIT A SECOND!  Shouts your inner know-it-all self.  Why am I an idiot...precisely?

Well, I'll tell you, idiot.  You are an idiot because you continue to vote for the same liberal or conservative meatheads that never live up to expectation.  In fact, you've become so accustomed to political disappointment that you've adopted silly little catch-phrases (which you wholeheartedly believe--and some for good reason) like:

1. All politicians are liars. (i.e. Q: When can you tell that a politician is lying?  A: His mouth is moving.)
2. The government is riddled by and with incompetence.
3. Campaign promises aren't really promises.
4. It's the worst government in the world...except for all the other governments of the world.
5. The size of the national debt doesn’t matter because we owe it to ourselves.
6. Nanny State...saying this isn't necessarily bad, saying it like you say it (i.e. en passant) is VILE.

Yes.  You are an idiot because you believe one or more of these things to be true.  And whether one of these clanking cliche's ring true or none of them, the very fact that we've grown accustomed to any of them is a big, fat problem.  And what have you done about it?  Lots!  You say.  I've done lots!

1. You volunteered for a campaign you thought would be different.  Kudos!  So, how'd that work out for you?  
2. You constantly called your representative on an issue you really, really cared about and that you thought your representative would care about.  How'd that go?
3. You started a blog and spewed forth your conceptualizations and frustrations in hopes that someone of importance might take you seriously.  Ha!  Ha-ha-ha-hahahahahahaha!
4. You went to rallies or protests and turned over cars or knocked old ladies down because, damnit, you're mad as hell and you're just not going to take it anymore!  And, here you are, taking it...more so than you used to.
5. You wallowed in self regret until you finally felt hopeless about the whole politics thing and decided, in a fit of grief, to put all the episodes of LOST on your computer and play them in shuffle mode to really amplify your despair and sense of universal disenfranchisement.  Oh, buddy, you're in a world of hurt...

Don't worry, idiot, you're not alone.  As you so coyly pointed out at the beginning of this post, I, your humble Libertarian host, was once an idiot just like you.

A while back I engaged in a rather heated over-the-phone conversation about this country's strident leaps toward socialism.  During the course of that conversation, the opposing debater said:  "What about Social Security?  Certainly you like that!"  And my response was a crisp, emphatic, frothing, rancorous "No!"  Well, the person whom I was engaged in this little quodlibet with was uniquely astonished.  No one, it seems, in their right mind, would dare say they thought Social Security was "unacceptable socialism".  But I went further.  "Social Security" I said, "is a scam."  And it is.  Social Security is a scam the size of which makes Bernie Madoff's endeavor look like a lunch money shakedown.  It is a Ponzi scheme of the worst kind--it is legal.

Little does my debate partner realize that, by the most conservative estimates, Social Security will run out of money two years before I'm eligible to collect one RED cent from it.  Oh joy!  Where do I sign up?

It'll never happen, you say.  They'll figure something out.  They'll print more money.  Something will happen and it'll be fixed.

I'm laughing at you, not with you, I promise.

But you see, that's the problem.  To fix a problem created by the U.S. government, the U.S. government creates another problem.  And then they concoct a remedy for that failure and a fix-all for the problems that created and then they need a cure for that failed policy until one day all we have is some dangling empire of lies garbled together and bound by duct tape.

But it doesn't have to be that way.  It really, really doesn't.  That's where I come in.  (Yes.  I am awesome.)

I have, for the benefit of you and me and the future of us all, dedicated many minutes a day since that argument mentioned previously to write down all the vast government programs involved in this vicious cycle.  In my book, Libertarianism:  What You Don't Understand About it and Why, I address and answer the following:

1. What these programs are, how they came to be, how they are funded, what they do or are supposed to do, etc.

2.  Why you don't understand that these programs are evil and should not only be discontinued, but outlawed.

3.  Why you consistently lie to yourself and say these programs are "working".

4.  There is no four, I just think ending a list at three is bad luck.

And it's yours for only 14.95.

What the...you say?

That's right, I'm a free market libertarian, you think I'm going to tell you why you're a complete idiot for free?  Guess again, sucker.  And I care not a whit that you're thinking right now:  "This shameless know-nothing, nobody, cocky, moronic s.o.b.!  Why the hell would this guy think I would send him anything!?"

I don't.  You won't.

You'll just keep sending that money to the federal government until the day you retire.  And then, one day (the day right after you retire) when you get NOTHING from the U.S. government, no return on your investment, you'll think back about this cocky idiot and about how he tried to warn you.

See, that's the problem with you sad, pathetic idiots.  You're pandered to.  You think you have the right to not be called an idiot.  You think you're informed.  You're not informed.  If you were informed this government wouldn't be running amok with or without your input and/or faux attempts at bending it to your meekly little will.  You're so used to getting information--vital information about how the world SHOULD work--for free.  The internet is full of would-be pundits and idiot savants who can bloviate like nobody's business.  Because that's what it is.  A non-business.  Sure, some of us may be making a little cash doing this, but in order to have a business, you have to have a viable production.   And, I see no production.  Nothing we've said or done has had an effect so far.  Don't get me started on these neo-cons the teaparty movement has successfully hoisted up over democrats of late.  That, my dear idiots, is not production in any sense of the word.

I say it's information about how the world SHOULD work that we're all looking for and the actual real-time means of producing that which SHOULD be.  Am I right?  This is what my book really does.  It gives you the power to become something more than an a useful idiot, it gives you the power to produce real results in politics.  I mean, we already know how the world DOES work (Social Madoff Security), and if you don't know how the world works, don't buy my book.  I don't want you reading it.  You don't deserve to read it.  Yet.

Alright so, if you're frustrated with the idiots in your political party and how they constantly disappoint you, if your angry that the president you elected is nothing more than an extension of the last presidency, or if your just yearning to find out why libertarians always seem to be chuckling internally when some bank fails or some mortgage company comes begging for a hand out, or when the primary stockholders of a certain car company (The U.S. Gub'ment)  are holding investigative hearings pertaining to one of its major competitors, or why you have to pay twelve bucks to park your car in the forest, send me your money and I'll enlighten you.

Until I get your money.  You're an idiot.

That's it, that's all.  





P.S. Don't send me any money you idiots, I didn't write any damned book.  These books have already been written by dudes with actual credentials.  So what was the point of all this?  I dunno, idiot, you figure it out.

Liber Review's Interview with Barrack Obama 10-29-09

During president Obama's recent trip out here to help promote the campaigns of certain incumbents, Liber Review was fortunate enough to get this short interview with the 44th president of the United States. We cannot possibly thank the adminstration, the president's staff and our new friends at the press corp for allowing us this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

We were only allowed two questions as we had to share the forty minute interview session with other fledgling outlets. We, of course, cheated and got an extra question or two in under the radar.

I have to admit, that I was very, very nervous doing this interview. Apologies for my obvious rookie mistakes and general amature composure...

One word of warning: we do not possess the editing capacity required to cut, edit or sample these tapes as of yet (we will soon, God willing), so beware the "R" rated word at the end of the tape. Sorry about that. Still, I think the interview went quite well.

Wrecked.

The Liber Review: How to make Enemies and Alienate People by Toby Young

Toby Young’s memoir of a Briton failing to climb the social ladder of the NYC “glossy posse” is full of great pie-faced hi jinks. For a book brimming with humor and ironic witticism, the book makes a pretty poignant, pointed statement of American social structure and the inaccessibility of the “American Dream”.
The tale spun here is a pretty much the typical thread of woe and failure we hear so much of these days. The narrator spends the bulk of his time in self-debasing ridicule, thereby lending some perverse measure of (self-imposed) credence to its author when he throws his wrench of rebuke into the gears of the American social machine: We are all just post-modern versions of Melville’s Ishmael. Outcasts, trodden, huddled masses. You get the picture.


To Read the full review click here

A Perfect Circle

Two young men look up to the sky to see a sun which had finally spun its way above the ridgeline of the foothills of the mountain they cannot see. The sun glows and turns in a silver ring that surrounds it. Up and above the conical firs, above the circles of spruce in the bowl of the valley the sun had reached its peak. It seems to hover there, a golden disc of fire, illuminating and blinding with its perpetual glow. The everlasting, noontide rays of the sun come spiraling down, absorbing direction and sense.

It was hot.

Eddie: Whichever direction we go, we end up in the same place.
Jack: I’m not lost. Just be quiet.
Eddie: Well this may not be the best time, but I think I gotta tell you something else.
Jack: What?
Eddie: Evolution is a lie man.
Jack: The fuck are you talking about now?
Eddie: Should be the Theory of Revolution. Shit goes around, it doesn’t progress.
Jack: Will you be quiet? I’m trying to listen.
Eddie: You tell me to talk…you tell me to shut up.

They are lost. Going in circles. Of course, ‘going in circles’ implies that they aren’t going anywhere, which is not entirely true. Jack, the older of the two, had been trying to gather information, gain some bearings. Even after all this time, he refused to ‘be lost’ in the wilderness. The other, Eddie is his name, is handling their situation the same as had always handled stress: he talked. Not even an encounter with the infamous Whetlock bear who was said to rip men to shreds just to see them squirm could change that aspect of Eddie. He talked and talked and talked.

Jack: Just shuttup.
Eddie: Did you know that a turtle can live one hundred seventy-five years?
Jack: Listen. Who? Turtle Beducci? I doubt he’ll live to be forty.
Eddie: Man… I said a turtle. I’m being serious. I’m talking about a one hundred seventy-five year cycle here.
Jack: I know. But you remember that guy? Crazy mother, him.
Eddie: Unbelievable
Jack: That’s Turtle.
Eddie: What the hell man? T-U-R-T-L-E.
Jack: That’s nice, now spell tortoise.
Eddie: You’re an idiot. Did you know that? Besides, his nickname was T-U-R-D-L-E, because he used to shit his pants all the time in grade school.
Jack: No shit? How about shutting the fuck up?
Eddie: Yeah. Shit. I’m talking about a turtle.
Jack: Well, every time I see a turtle or hear the word turtle it reminds me of Beducci.
Eddie: Ah. Ok. Fine. Connections: whenever I look at a bicycle wheel I think about turtles.
Jack: I don’t want to talk about turtles and I absolutely do not want to talk about cycles.

Since the accident this morning, carrying around their bicycles had become more than burdensome. Running with a bicycle wasn’t an option, so when they had to run, they had to backtrack for the cycles. If only that path had not disappeared in the undergrowth. If only they had a compass…there’s a thought that would return later and often. There is the sun. Still. The still sun. That’s of no use. They continue on. What else can they do?

Eddie: A turtle’s life is one big perpetual cycle. Did you know that?
Jack: My life is one big circle. I get up, I eat, I shit, I work, I eat some more, I shit some more…
Eddie: I’m talking about cycles. Revolutions. Thirty-six chromosomes.
Jack: I think you are the only person alive that can confuse a turtle with a bicycle wheel.
Eddie: What? A bicycle wheel has thirty-six spokes.
Jack: Thirty-five.
Eddie: Don’t you see the connection?
Jack: Will you just shut up? It’s not important.
Eddie: God, how old are you? You can’t live your whole life without knowing something important before you die. And you definitely have to be able to decipher between shit that is important and the shit that isn’t!
Jack: I’m trying to hear…do you really want to die out here?

Jack really thought he heard water. But this forest brims with all sorts of sounds. There are two creeks…certainly somewhere nearby. Every once in a whle the rush of water sends an echo over the hills. Figuring out where it came from is proving difficult for Jack. There are birds of all kinds making all kinds of ruckus. There are other bustling creatures in the bushes and undergrowth. A distant plane was humming beyond and over the mountain. Twigs snap, limbs fall in the shadows, a bumblebee zips here and there across the path the two men are making. The day lingered. The sounds mingled and clanged in the heat like a symphony tuning before a concert. Eddie has no interest in the auditions of the forest. He was mumbling something under his breath, making noises of his own.

Eddie: A turtle has thirty-six chromosomes. Are you listening to me?
Jack: I don’t know.
Eddie: How many chromosomes does a turtle have?
Jack: Listen! That’s our salvation, man!
Eddie: I give up.
Jack: Don’t you know what that is?
Eddie: No! And I don’t care what you hear as long as it’s not that goddamned bear.
Jack: The Whetlock bear again…the bear is history. Let it go.
Eddie: So says you. It’s probably the Whetlock bear drinking the blood of his latest victim…that’s what you hear.
Jack: You don’t hear it? The creek? That’s a creek.
Eddie: Ok…I don’t hear it.
Jack: Salmon Creek runs parallel to highway twenty-six, man! On the south side!

Jack was trying very hard to figure out where they might be. Eddie wasn’t helping.

Eddie: Whatever, we’re still lost. That’s not gonna help us. We’re still screwed. It’s going to get freezing tonight. If the cold don’t kill us, the bear will.
Jack: That must be Salmon Creek. I can hear it. Eddie, the bear isn’t here.
Eddie: Yeah right. The Whetlock bear has been hunting us all day. Guarantee it.
Jack: You’re hopeless. Listen.
Eddie: You’re goddamned right I am! I’m sick of this shit!
Jack: Dude, chill. Chromosomes. Ok? We need to keep you talking or you’re gonna go wacky.
Eddie: No we don’t.
Jack: Yes we do.
Eddie: We don’t need to talk about anything. You don’t want to hear it anyway.
Jack: Let’s just keep moving. Just try to keep a conversation going. I won’t stop you.
Eddie: Ok, fine. So can we can go straight back from right here? This very spot?

Now, here’s the trick. The answer is ‘yes’. Yes, they could go straight back from any point. But it won’t lead them out of the circular predicament they have created for themselves. At any point, we can go back, but the story is always the same. Always.

Jack: Yes.
Eddie: Yeah? Are you sure?
Jack: I am sure. We can go back from any point here.
Eddie: You better be posi-fucking-tively sure.
Jack: Well…I’m pretty sure.
Eddie: Don’t say you’re ‘pretty’ sure! You’re half-assed planning is what got us into this shit-hole mess in the first place!
Jack: Instead of doing that, why don’t you give me a valid suggestion? I’m pretty sure the creek is just over that ridge there.
Eddie: Yeah, I’m gonna scream! I can’t believe you said that! I’m screaming now. And loud!
Jack: That’s right. Yell. That’ll help. Real great. I should just leave you here for that stupid bear.

Eddie isn’t happy. The bear is nowhere to be seen. But the forest moves still. Eddie screams and the forest replies.

Eddie: I loved my poor bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle!
Jack: The bike is toast, man. Come on, get a grip and let’s get up that ridge over there, ok?
Eddie: I really am going to get you killed…I’m going to get myself killed! I don’t think I can handle this. Twelve hundred bucks I paid for that bike!
Jack: That’s definitely not helpful. Talk about something. Turdle Beducci, remember? Or whatever, anything. Talk about anything.
Eddie: Why does this shit happen to me? I have to stop. Just leave me here to die.

Eddie’s friend would never leave him there to die. They had been friends since high school. He may have thought about leaving Eddie, just for a few minutes, to scope things out, but knew that would never work. And now he noticed that something was moving in the shadows along the ridgeline again.

Jack: Eddie just keep moving, bro. We got to keep moving or we’re going to die.
Eddie: Fuck! F-uuuuuuuuuu-ck! Fuck bicycles! Fuck bears and turtles and trees and fuck all this fuckity fucked-up fuck fuck fuckity fuck!
Jack: Eddie. Pay attention. Eddie…
Eddie: Oh my God! Oh my God!
Jack: Eddie! Keep it together!
Eddie: What?!
Jack: Is that the bear you were talking about?

And there it was. The Whetlock bear of local legend, slayer of man and beast. Widow-maker. Death-bringer. The fangs of Satan gleaming, dripping with vile. His coat, a mane of pure anger. Eyes, circular portals to the End of all things.

Eddie: Oh…my…God.
Jack: C’mon! Run!

What could they do? Run.

Eddie: You gotta be fucking kidding me!
Jack: Holy shit! That’s…the biggest damn bear…Behind those rocks! Go! Go! Go!
Eddie: Oh shit!
Jack: Did you see that? What is that thing?!

The illusion of safety. The forest, as serene and tranquil, as taken advantage…it is as it is. Back in the city, we know to look for predation. We think we know who is hunting and who is hunted. The wilderness masks. The sun waxes. The forest lies.

Eddie: Is that him?
Jack: Ok. Stop, stop, stop. Stop here.
Eddie: I don’t see him anywhere!
Jack: I don’t think he chased us, I think our paths crossed coincidentally.
Eddie: I hope you’re right. You’re never right.
Jack: Let’s just get up on that mound over there for a few minutes. I think it’s safe.
Eddie: Do you see him?
Jack: I think I can sense him. But I can’t make him out if he’s back there.
Eddie: You don’t see him?
Jack: I don’t know. Shh!
Eddie: You see? That’s what I’m talking about.
Jack: He might still be around here. Shut the fuck up!
Eddie: Grizzly fuckin Adams man.
Jack: Ok, that’s enough, man. Serious. Let me regain my bearings.

Jack knows they have to keep moving. But the feeling of recurrence overwhelms him. This rock, this ridge, the mound over there…all familiar. Eddie notices it too. Eddie is confused. This way is that and that, this. Nothing makes sense. The sun never moves from its zenith. It simply beams. The flooding lamp of some celestial interrogator.

Eddie: Well, this is exactly what I was talking about. We came up here on twelve-hundred dollar mountain bikes and now were being chased by Grizzly Adams or…whatever!
Jack: Grizzly Adams was the guy. The bears name was Ben, or something like that.
Eddie: No it wasn’t.
Jack: Was that show even on when you were a kid?
Eddie: Your’re the damned T.V. junkie. I’ve never even seen the stupid show.
Jack: The bear’s name wasn’t Grizzly Adams.
Eddie: Whatever you say.
Jack: Ok. Just hunker down here for a minute or two. Catch your breath, keep your eyes open.

They make their way to the feigned safety of an outcropping. Covered with moss and hanging grasses. They hide themselves. They know that won’t help. They’ll have to move and do this again and again.

Eddie: Grizzly fuckin’ Adams, man.
Jack: The Whetlock bear. Unbelievable.
Eddie: Jesus, that’s one big bear. Shit! Look!
Jack: What is it? I don’t see!
Eddie: Down there. In the gulch! It’s moving!
Jack: Ok listen, there’s no bear up here. Calm down. He’s out there, but he’s not right here, right now. Ok? Let’s keep it that way and keep moving.
Eddie: You ever seen a bear that big?
Jack: Well, I have now.
Eddie: Do you ever think about dying?
Jack: You’re really asking for it. You need to shuttup.

Eddie hunches down like a school boy digging for worms. He mumbles to himself a string of psuedo decipherable words that soon become a silent song.

Eddie: I love my bicycle.
Jack: Loved.
Eddie: I love my bicycle.
Jack: Loved.
Eddie: I love my bicycle.
Jack: God, you’ve finally lost it.

Jack starts walking westward toward the mountain they can not see through the trees. Eddie, lost in thought, looks up to see that Jack is almost out of sight and runs to catch up.

Eddie: Bicycle wheels have thirty-six spokes.
Jack: Yes, you’re an overflowing fountain of information.
Eddie: I’m right, aren’t I?
Jack: Right about what?
Eddie: We aren’t making it out of here. We’re going in circles. We’re turtles. I was right.
Jack: Oh for fucks sake…What the hell do you know about turtles anyway?
Eddie: Turtles have thirty-six chromosomes.
Jack: Yeah, and they’re complete idiots.

Jack stops at a small crick. Eddie kneels down and laps up some water like a dog. Jack cups his hands to drink. They continue on, talking and walking, but looking this way and that for any sign of danger.


Eddie: The Whetlock bear has hunted these woods for centuries, that’s what they say.
Jack: Ridiculous. What, that stupid bear? He’s a bear you’re a human. Chromosomes, man.
Eddie: We can’t outrun him forever. It’s the tortoise and the hare.
Jack: Oh my God. Does it ever end with you?
Eddie: Well, this might not be the best time to mention, but…
Jack: We aint lost. Shut up about it.
Eddie: We’re going in circles man.
Jack: Look, we aren’t lost and not every little thing in life is a circle for fuck’s sake.
Eddie: Name one that isn’t.
Jack: Stories have a very distinct beginning, middle and end. Right? They aren’t circular.
Eddie: Oh, really? Just answer me this then what if the end of the story is the beginning and the beginning is the end?
Jack: Stories have a very distinct beginning middle and end. Right? They aren’t circular.
Eddie: Name one that isn’t.
Jack: Look, we aren’t lost and not every little thing in life is a circle for fuck’s sake.
Eddie: We’re going in circles man.
Jack: We aint lost. Shut up about it.
Eddie: Well, this might not be the best time to mention, but…
Jack: Oh my God does it ever end with you?
Eddie: We can’t outrun him forever. It’s the tortoise and the hare.
Jack: Ridiculous. What, that stupid bear? He’s a bear you’re a human. Chromosomes, man.
Eddie: The Whetlock bear has hunted these woods for centuries, that’s what they say.

Jack stops at a small crick. Eddie kneels down and laps up some water like a dog. Jack cups his hands to drink. They continue on, talking and walking, but looking this way and that for any sign of danger.

Jack: Yeah, and they’re complete idiots.
Eddie: Turtles have thirty-six chromosomes.
Jack: Oh for fucks sake…What the hell do you know about turtles anyway?
Eddie: We aren’t making it out of here. We’re going in circles. We’re turtles. I was right.
Jack: Right about what?
Eddie: I’m right aren’t I?
Jack: Yes, you’re an overflowing fountain of information.
Eddie: Bicycle wheels have thirty-six spokes.

Jack starts walking westward toward the mountain they can not see through the trees. Eddie, lost in thought, looks up to see that Jack is almost out of sight and runs to catch up.

Jack: God you’ve finally lost it.
Eddie: I love my bicycle.
Jack: Loved.
Eddie: I love my bicycle.
Jack: Loved.
Eddie: I love my bicycle.

Eddie hunches down like a school boy digging for worms. He mumbles to himself a string of psuedo decipherable words that soon become a silent song.

Jack: You’re really asking for it. You need to shuttup.
Eddie: Do you ever think about dying?
Jack: Well, I have now.
Eddie: You ever seen a bear that big?
Jack: Ok listen, there’s no bear up here. Calm down. He’s out there. But he’s not right here, right now. Ok? Let’s keep it that way and keep moving.
Eddie: Down there! In the gulch! It’s moving!
Jack: What is it? I don’t see!
Eddie: Jesus, that’s one big bear. Shit! Look!
Jack: The Whetlock bear. Unbelievable!
Eddie: Grizzly fuckin’ Adams, man.

They make their way to the feigned safety of an outcropping covered with moss and hanging grasses. They hide themselves. They know it won’t help. They’ll have to move and do this again and again.

Jack: Ok. Just hunker down here for a minute or two. Catch your breath, keep your eyes open.
Eddie: Whatever you say.
Jack: The bear’s name wasn’t Grizzly Adams.
Eddie: You’re the damned T.V. junkie. I’ve never even seen the stupid show.
Jack: Was that show even on when you were a kid?
Eddie: No it wasn’t.
Jack: Grizzly Adams was the guy. The bears name was Ben, or something like that.
Eddie: Well, this is exactly what I was talking about. We came up here on twelve-hundred dollar mountain bikes and now were being chased by Grizzly Adams…or whatever.

Jack knows they have to keep moving. But the feeling of recurrence overwhelms him. This rock, this ridge, the mound over there…all familiar. Eddie notices it too. Eddie is confused. This way is that and that, this. Nothing makes sense. The sun never moves from its zenith. It simply beams. The flooding lamp of some celestial interrogator.

Jack: Ok that’s enough man. Serious. Let me regain my bearings.
Eddie: Grizzly fuckin’ Adams, man.
Jack: He might still be around here. Shut the fuck up.
Eddie: You see? That’s what I’m talking about.
Jack: I don’t know. Shh!
Eddie: You don’t see him?
Jack: I think I can sense him. But I can’t make him out if he’s back there.
Eddie: Do you see him?
Jack: Let’s just get up on that mound over there for a few minutes. I think it’s safe.
Eddie: I hope you’re right. You’re never right.
Jack: I don’t think he chased us, I think our paths crossed coincidentally.
Eddie: I don’t see him anywhere!
Jack: Ok. Stop, stop, stop. Stop here.
Eddie: Is that him?

The illusion of safety. The forest, as serene and tranquil, as taken advantage of…it is as it is. Back in the city, we know to look for predation. We think we know who is hunting and who is hunted. The wilderness masks. The sun waxes. The forest lies.

Jack: Did you see that? What is that thing?!
Eddie: Oh shit!
Jack: Holy shit! That’s…the biggest damn bear…Behind those rocks! Go! Go! Go!
Eddie: You gotta be fucking kidding me!

What else could they do? Run.

Jack: C’mon! Run!
Eddie: Oh…my …God.

And there it is. The Whetlock bear of local legend, slayer of man and beast. Widow-maker. Death-bringer. The fangs of Satan gleaming, dripping with vile. His coat, a mane of pure anger. Eyes, circular portals to the End of all things.

Jack: Is that the bear you were talking about?
Eddie: What?!
Jack: Eddie! Keep it together!
Eddie: Oh my God! Oh my God!
Jack: Eddie. Pay attention. Eddie…
Eddie: Fuck! F-uuuuuuuuuu-ck! Fuck bicycles! Fuck bears and turtles and tress and fuck all this fuckity fucked-up fuck fuck fuckity fuck!
Jack: Eddie just keep moving, bro. We got to keep moving or we’re going to die.

Jack would never leave Eddie there to die. They had been friends since high school. He may have thought about leaving Eddie, just for a few minutes, to scope things out, but knew that would never work. And now he noticed that something was moving in the shadows along the ridgeline again. Eddie was frantic.

Eddie: Why does this shit happen to me? I have to stop. Just leave me here to die.
Jack: That’s definitely not helpful.. Talk about something, Eddie. Turdle Beducci, remember? Or whatever, anything. Keep walking. Talk about anything.
Eddie: I really am going to get you killed…I’m going to get myself killed! I don’t think I can handle this. Twelve hundred bucks I paid for that bike!
Jack: The bike is toast, man. Come on, get a grip and let’s get up that ridge over there, ok?
Eddie: I loved my poor bicycle! Bicycle! Bicycle!

Eddie isn’t happy. The bear is nowhere to be seen. But the forest moves still. Eddie screams and the forest replies.

Jack: That’s right. Yell. That’ll help. Real great. I should just leave you here for that stupid bear.
Eddie: Yeah, I’m gonna scream! I can’t believe you said that! I’m screaming now. And loud!
Jack: Instead of doing that, why don’t you give me a valid suggestion? I’m pretty sure the creek is just over that ridge there.
Eddie: Don’t say you’re ‘pretty’ sure! You’re half-assed planning is what got us into this shit-hole mess in the first place!
Jack: Well…I’m pretty sure.
Eddie: You better be posi-fucking-tively sure!
Jack: I am sure. We can go back from any point here.
Eddie: Yeah? Are you sure?
Jack: Yes.

Now, here’s the trick. The answer is ‘yes’. Yes, they could go straight back from any point. But it won’t lead them out of the circular predicament they have created for themselves. At any point, we can go back, but the story is always the same. Always.

Eddie: Ok, Fine. So can we go straight back from right here? This very spot?
Jack: Let’s just keep moving. Just try to keep a conversation going. I won’t stop you.
Eddie: We don’t need to talk about anything. You don’t want to hear it anyway.
Jack: Yes we do.
Eddie: No we don’t.
Jack: Dude, chill. Chromosomes. Ok? We need to keep you talking or you’re gonna go wacky.
Eddie: You’re goddamned right I am! I’m sick of this shit!
Jack: You’re hopeless. Listen.
Eddie: Yeah right. The Whetlock bear has been hunting us all day. Guarantee it.
Jack: That must be Salmon Creek. I can hear it. Eddie, the bear isn’t here.
Eddie: Whatever, we’re still lost. That’s not gonna help us. We’re still screwed. It’s going to get freezing tonight. If the cold don’t kill us, the bear will.

Jack was trying very hard to figure out where they might be. Eddie wasn’t helping.

Jack: Salmon Creek runs parallel to highway twenty-six, man! On the south side!
Eddie: Ok…I don’t hear it.
Jack: You don’t hear it? The creek? That’s a creek.
Eddie: So says you. It’s probably the Whetlock bear drinking the blood of his latest victim…that’s what you hear.
Jack: The Whetlock bear again…the bear is history. Let it go.
Eddie: No! And I don’t care what you hear as long as it’s not the goddamned bear!
Jack: Don’t you know what that is?
Eddie: I give up.
Jack: Listen! That’s our salvation, man!
Eddie: How many chromosomes does a turtle have?
Jack: I don’t know.
Eddie: A turtle has thirty-six chromosomes. Are you listening to me?

Jack really thought he heard water. But this forest brims with all sorts of sounds. There are two creeks…certainly somewhere nearby. Every once in a whle the rush of water sends an echo over the hills. Figuring out where it came from is proving difficult for Jack. There are birds of all kinds making all kinds of ruckus. There are other bustling creatures in the bushes and undergrowth. A distant plane was humming beyond and over the mountain. Twigs snap, limbs fall in the shadows, a bumblee zips here and there across the path the two men are making. The day lingered. The sounds mingled and clanged in the heat like a symphony tuning before a concert. Eddie has no interest in the auditions of the forest. He was mumbling something under his breath, making noises of his own.

Jack: I’m trying to hear…do you really want to die out here?
Eddie: God, how old are you? You can’t live your whole life without knowing something important before you die. And you definitely have to be able to decipher between shit that is important and the shit that isn’t!
Jack: Will you just shut up? It’s not important.
Eddie: Don’t you see the connection?
Jack: Thirty-five.
Eddie: What? A bicycle has thirty-six spokes.
Jack: I think you’re the only person alive that can confuse a turtle with a bicycle wheel.
Eddie: I’m talking about cycles. Revolutions. Thirty-six chromosomes.
Jack: My life is one big circle. I get up, I eat, I shit, I work, I eat some more, I shit some more…
Eddie: A turtle’s life is a perpetual cycle. Did you know that?

Since the accident this morning, carrying around their bicycles had become more than burdensome. Running with a bicycle wasn’t an option, so when they had to run, they had to backtrack for the cycles. If only that path had not disappeared in the undergrowth. If only they had a compass…there’s a thought that would return later and often. There is the sun. Still. The still sun. That’s of no use. They continue on. What else can they do?

Jack: I don’t want to talk about turtles and I absolutely do not want to talk about cycles.
Eddie: Ah Ok. Fine. Connections: whenever I look at a bicycle wheel I think about turtles.
Jack: Well, every time I see a turtle or hear the word turtle it reminds me of Beducci.
Eddie: Yeah. Shit. I’m talking about a turtle.
Jack: No shit? How about shutting the fuck up?
Eddie: You’re an idiot. Did you know that? Besides, his nickname was T-U-R-D-L-E, because he used to shit his pants all the time in grade school. T-U-R-D-L-E.
Jack: That’s nice, now spell tortoise.
Eddie: What the hell man? T-U-R-T-L-E.
Jack: That’s turtle.
Eddie: Unbelievable.
Jack: I know. But you remember that guy? Crazy mother, him.
Eddie: Man…I said a turtle. I’m being serious. I’m talking about a one hundred seventy-five year cycle here.
Jack: Listen. Who? Turtle Beducci? I doubt he’ll live to be forty.
Eddie: Did you know that a turtle can live one hundred seventy-five years.
Jack: Just shut up.

They were lost. Again. Going in circles…or so they thought. Of course, ‘going in circles’ implies that they weren’t going anywhere, which is not entirely true. Jack had been trying to gather information they whole way, even with Eddie constantly jabbering. Jack refused to ‘be lost’ in the wilderness. The other, Eddie was his name, was handling their situation the same as he had always handled stress. He talked. Not even an encounter with the infamous Whetlock bear who was said to rip men to shreds just to see them squirm could change that aspect of Eddie. He talked and talked and talked.

Eddie: You tell me to talk…you tell me to shut up.
Jack: Will you be quiet? Right now I’m trying to listen.
Eddie: Should be the Theory of Revolution. Shit goes around, it doesn’t progress.
Jack: The fuck are you talking about now?
Eddie: Evolution is a lie, man.
Jack: What?
Eddie: Well this may not be the best time, but I think I gotta tell you something else…
Jack: I’m not lost. Just be quiet.
Eddie: Whichever direction we go, we end up in the same place.

Two young men look up to the sky to see a sun which had finally spun its way above the ridgeline of the foothills of the mountain they cannot see. The sun glows and turns in a silver ring that surrounds it. Up and above the conical firs, above the circles of spruce in the bowl of the valley the sun had reached its peak. It seems to hover there, a golden disc of fire, illuminating and blinding with its perpetual glow. The everlasting, noontide rays of the sun come spiraling down, absorbing direction and sense.

It was hot.


Copyright 2008, The Liber Review
Portland Oregon

Libertarianism: A non-sequitor in and of itself...but that's a good thing!

So, we automatically think of non-sequitors as being sort of idiotic, right? I mean, literally the term means something like "it does not follow". Well, not following, in the Libertarian sense, is actually a benefit. Groups are abstractions. There really isn't any such thing as a group. Show me a group. You can't. You can only show me a group of X. And therefore you are showing me X in repetition. Furthermore, every X in any given machination is different. All things are individualized and perceived as such...otherwise we would all go crazy looking at the vast infinitude of the universe all at once. Whoa.

Let's see who recognizes these words:

Ok, that's too easy. I think we all know what parchment this is we're looking at. Right? Um...right?? Yeah, I'm cheating, I'm the guy that posted it, of course I know. Here's what that little piece of paper has to say:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

Of course, we all know the last little part "the pursuit of Happiness" was a curiously strange diversion from the prominent liberal thinking of the day. John Locke, to whom the phrase "Life, Health, Liberty, etc" is accredited, did not directly state the importance of "happiness", he instead used "possession" or, some cases, "property" in the stead of happiness. Curious. So what exactly does this have to do with anything? I mean, that stinky old parchment, no one cares about that anymore. We've got our Facebooks and Blackberries to tend to. No one has time to worry about that stupid ol' Declaration of Whatever Blah Blah Blah thing anymore.

Wait a second. If we don't have to worry about that document anymore, that must mean we usurped the whole of Maslow's Hierarchy right? I mean sheesh, if we have conquered things like say, food and shelter and transport and all that, certainly the use of our fun little toys like the one you're using right now to read this must certainly constitute happiness.

What you do individually, you do for self-stimulation. Think about that the next time you sit down at your computer or pick up your cell phone. My life is good!

Well, the question is: How good is it? Can it really be true that we are so satisfied with ourselves, so...what's the word...um...liberated...that we can sit in front of our Wii for two hours trying to re-sink that virtual hole-in-one? (No I don't own a Wii, but I've got many other vices). Hmm...Maslow, he woulda been a Pong guy I bet.

It's interesting that self actualization is the pinnacle of this whole enchilada:

We: the dudes in wigs writing the paper (That would be John Adams and Tommy Jefferson)
hold these truths: wait for it...
to be self evident: Aha! That means, you, the reader of this little colonial temper tantrum have no choice but to agree to the following...
that all men are created equal: so out of the gate we are all individually equal...hmmm...
that they are endowed by their Creator: Yes, that's a capital "C", no, this is not a typo...err...quillo...That Creator guy? Yeah, that's God, or the higher being, or whatever idiotic multi-cultural, non-offensive titular disrespect we're applying to Him these days.
with certain (in)unalienable rights: that means they can't be stripped from you, the individual, by any means, it's impossible to do.
that among these are Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happineff: I just like the f's for s's thing in colonial English, fo fexy.

The Declaration of Independence is, more than being a mere temper tantrum, a philosophical document. Hence the reliance on John Locke. The portion we're dealing with here is a fundamental, mimetic device. The fact that Life, Liberty, etc are revered (hence the capitalization) means they are the true forms of the abstract. Not carbon copies. When John Adams says Life, he means, in the Aristotelian sense, the highest possible "ideal" of life. God-given and nothing less. The same goes with Liberty and Happiness, or if you prefer, Property, for all the people that think John Locke got robbed on this one. (Incidentally, I think slave ownership (property) may have been a good reason why this word was stricken, and have heard others suggest this as well...but I have no proof)

Yeah, yeah, now's when all the over-educated English professors get to stop lurking in the shadows and point out that other words are capitalized in the document too. We're not getting into that here, but anyone who wants me to kick their academic booty into verbal oblivion can e-mail me for a lambasting on the subject of majuscules and language orthographies in colonial English. Don't step. Don't do it.

That said, we seriously need to re-evaluate individualism...and what God has to do with it...according to our forefathers. (Incidentally, I'm a 2nd gen American...so I guess they weren't technically my forefathers...) What if I don't believe in God? What does that mean? If God endows these rights, according to this philosophy, and I don't believe in God, does that mean I don't have these rights? Maybe I just have to disagree with the founders of this nation on how I obtain these rights? If I disagree with the founding fathers, what does that make me? Unamerican? If I'm unamerican and yet, for some reason, like living here, what do I have to do to erase this little hiccup? If I erase this little hiccup, don't I have to, in essence, delete everything that comes after it? After all, the entire document, the Constitution, and the Federalist Papers all hinge on these Truths (capital T) being self-evident and inalienable. Can I pick and choose which parts of the Constitution I like?

I got bad news for you if you're this person. Whether God exists or not is not the question. The philosophy of this nation hinges on our individual inalienable rights. Those rights are gifts from God. The only way to obtain these individual rights which cannot be stripped, is from the Creator. There is no argument in Naturalism which grants you these rights. Socialism's goal is to make sure you don't have access to these rights. Socialism is collectivism. Collectivism ignores the minority, it is one step removed from the mob-rule which is democracy. Democracy is an abstraction which can't preserve your rights. If the mob (majority)decides it is within their interest to take your rights, they will do so. Democracy is an evil, evil thing which punishes minorities. This is a Republic (Latin: Things of the State...or Law), we are a country of Law. And the first law is: the greatest example of the minority is the individual. That's right, it's you, no matter who you are. Once you join a group, you've sacrificed a part of your individual liberty. This is why Libertarianism is a non-sequitor. A group of people preaching individualism? It just doesn't follow. And thank God it doesn't. Because, if we were all able to agree on the sovereignty of each other, a greater esteem for our neighbor would emerge and a greater respect for opposition just might prevent crime, war, poverty, etc. Would it be some lilly-laden Utopia? Absolutely not. Utopia's suck and inevitably breed oligarchy...just like all other forms of government have in the past...including Republicanism.

We don't need some fake mockery of collective utopia. What we need we already have, it is inalienable. But that doesn't mean some won't try to rob you of it.

Now put down your Blackberry and get back to pursuing Hapineff.