This is the home of the 'serious' a4g. To visit my dark side, go to Point Five. (The dark side seems to post every day... Why do you think that is?)

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Why I am voting for Bush

One of my earliest memories is waking from a night terror, my heart racing, and being totally, mortally afraid of Death. In the all consuming way that only a child--helpless, dependant, ignorant-- can be afraid, I remember calling out from that terror to the accepting arms of God, and like a cold bucket of water I realized suddenly that there was no god, and that I had never once believed. The realization was so intense, it shocked me out of the terror, and I lay dumbfounded, exploring not the implications but merely the sensation of my revelation.

I never lost the gnawing fear of death, the urgent sense that somehow I must do something to carve my name into the bark of history or ... or what? That was the existential question I never seem to get around to answering. Like John Galt, I became an end to myself, not for aristippian pleasures, but for devotion to a stoic creed, one that evolved in particulars throughout life, but retained as its lodestar the flag of existence planted atop some Mt. Suribachi that would proclaim MEANING out of nothingness.

In other words, I was a coward.

There was no fight from which I wouldn’t squirm away. No principle high enough to override my desires. The justification was always the same, whether stated or mute, comprehended or ignored: I must continue. I must be satisfied. I cannot deny myself or I may never have the chance at the experience again.

There is a cost for such an existence, and it is a gnawing twisting something that never goes away. It sits in the gut and occasionally rises to the chest, and averts your eyes when they look in a place the something doesn’t want you to see. Was it the devil, or my conscience, or are those just ways of talking about something that is merely humanness?

Regardless, I gave the dull discomfort a name: sophistication.

My tactic evolved quickly. I was right, always, and anyone that disagreed with me was not only wrong, but defective in some way, stupid, incapable of reason because they could not, would not, persist over the burn in their belly. They had yielded to the instinct and become simple animals—religious animals. I held the incompatible positions of my beliefs as a badge of honor. To support the killing of a baby inside the womb up to the moment of birth, I constructed elaborate intellectual defenses, and named the resulting revulsion I felt STRENGTH. I gave a name to the disdain I felt for my uninformed countryman: SUPERIORITY. And to all the questions I could not answer, and the logical fallacies that made everything nothing and nothing everything, my pride in juggling complexity and irresolution and nuance, I gave the name GENIUS.

Genius is an interesting word to a liberal. To those who believe in God, I can only suggest the possible translation as saint. Intellect is a god to those who have none. It is why debates are so important. Nuance. Refinement. Sophistication. Yet it is a strange thing that liberals don’t seem to notice what qualifies one as a true genius, and it was a discovery that helped bring me back to reason.

Galileo took a world where everything everywhere fell in its own way based on its own nature, swept it away and left one law in its place.

Kepler took gears and spheres and retrograde disks and smashed them with the power of an equation.

Newton took the immutable heavens and sullied earth and through force of will bound the two together as one.

Einstein is not remembered because he remarked on how complicated the universe was, but how simple.

Genius is the understanding that nothing true is complicated.

Understanding is simple. Ignorance is complex.
Truth is simple. Lies are complex.
Honor is simple. Cowardice is complex.

I have been to the outskirts of the place where the Kerrys of the world reside, and it is an empty wasteland. On a barren plain, they sit under tattered silk umbrellas and drink sickly sweet cocktails that turn stale in their mouths once imbibed. They do not know life because they fear death. They are misers with each moment.

I you want to know why I’m going to vote for George Bush, it is because I am no longer a coward. I am no longer afraid to die—I am ready for it. As a husband and a father, I know where my duty lies. I am to provide, to protect, and when my time comes, I am here to die that my family may live. Everything else in life is sweet unearned but well received pleasure; but I am still here only for my grim honorable purpose.

Its all very simple. I have learned to trust the simple man. Inside myself. And in my President.

Post a Comment

<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?