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Reflection from February 7th, 2014 @ Age 32

RE:  MY FELLOW **AMERICAN** NBA COMMISSIONER ADAM SILVER, **FEAR** NOT—IN SUPPORTING (A.K.A. “REINFORCING”) THE AMERICAN FREEDOM OF **EVERY** NBA PLAYER TO ‘BEND THE KNEE’ FOR AMERICA, DURING THE RECITAL OF HER NATIONAL ANTHEM—YOU SEND A **POWERFUL** SIGNAL TO ALL OTHER AMERICAN EMPLOYERS, THAT PUNISHING AN EMPLOYEE FOR EXERCISING HIS/HER ENUMERATED, AMERICAN FREEDOMS—IS A **CONSTITUTIONAL** FOUL (A.K.A. ABUSE OF POWER), THAT WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

12:48am

Alright, here it is—the gears are really shifting, now, over here…

Senator Coley has to appease me, now.  He has to.  I’m not entirely sure why, as of yet—I’m only entirely sure of that conclusion!  He has to appease me now, somehow, or else—S.B. 43 will likely, never make it past a senate floor vote.  That deal with NAMI Ohio is a rainmaker—people will be talking; and, they will be saying—who did that?  Who brought him down?  That was his mistake—making himself so widely-known, as the “driving force” behind this bill.  That was his big mistake no.1.

NAMI Ohio’s big mistake no.2—was granting out access to their Franklin County, Ohio, email subscriber list.  I mean, I’da had NOTHING—without that.  It’s all just so intricately designed, don’t you see?  Now, they have to appease me.  Therefrom, was born—my job security

Geoffrey Collver said, “WHAT? How’s he gonna do that?”—when I told him part-I of the Senator Coley/Marissa Varcho mental-health crisis resolution/2-part compromise, for the senate bill.  Part I—counsel, appointed to all AOT respondents until such time, as is determined non-indigent and reasonable opportunity to arrange for private counsel.  Part II—entirely strike R.C. 5122.311 regarding reporting of all mentally-ill persons to the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation.  So, we’ll see what happens.  I mean, I don’t think they have to do anything—but, it certainly would be in their best-interests to appease me…

And, those U.S. politicians; you know, how they do feel—about their own self-interests…

Hence, the “appease me”.

Checkmate.

3:44pm

Ohh my god, still nothing yet has come forth from Senator Coley’s office—and, I think I might just die here waiting all by myself; especially, knowing that asshole Geoffrey Collver at DRO, who is supposed to be on my SIDE—is just gloating in anticipation of my complete and utter, and ultimate (as he anticipates…) failure.  I mean, what an asshole!  I swear to god, I can feel his arrogant gloating—all the way from downtown, out here into the suburbs of Powell.

Ohh Universe!  I’m trying my best to hold tight!  I promise you that; very truly so, I am

I guess, I’m just still a bit “mid-air” is all.  Time to cease all DRO communications.  Their Marissa K. Varcho insider-benefit days, are over.  But it’s good for just, this once.  They helped me—I helped them; and, now it is done.  And, fuck you Geoffrey Collver.  Ughh…

I just am having very unpleasant feelings, right now.  Mostly, just tired; don’t want to call the insurance company—for fear of getting upset; don’t want to leave the house, because last time I did that—I ended up with a hot fudge sundae from Culver’s (hah) and $100 more worth of books from Barnes & Noble.  And their membership, also…

I can’t stop the shopping, and it’s very scary to feel like I have to depend on others—because this whole web is so intricately designed, and what if he doesn’t really understand?!!  Or, what if he doesn’t really care?!!  What then?!!!?!

I’d just be ruined, I guess ;0)

Is not the case, though.  I have made this, NOT the ordinary case—since last October, and it’s only been building since then.  Terry Russell is gone, now; Geoffrey Collver’s assholedom has been revealed—and, Mister William P. (?) Coley Jr. (?) or whatever, you know…

Senator Coley—does understand.  He said so, himself—“how impressively” I’d managed my “tactics,” and all.  Sigh, I want to go to sleep ;0/

And yet, still, anyways…

I persistto BELIEVE.

Any day now, it’s going to happen, FINALLY—that I will be released, and I will be FREE

And then, I’ll shove it in Geoffrey Collver’s face—and give Senator Coley a big hug, with a great gesture of thanks; and then, I will officially leave this hellhole behind—and move on to bigger and better things.  Namely, independent contracting ;0)

This is going to happen, Maris…

All the others, are of such little faith—because so, too, are their capabilities.  You EARNED this, Maris

Enjoy it—and, get ready to take flight.  And, all that aside—ohh my god

I’ve never been more terrified, in my entire life.

Ahhh, David, if you’re there—please help me get back focused!  I’m just struggling, a bit…

I’m sure everything’s going to be just fine, though—nahh ;0)

BETTER than fine—so much better, Miss Maris…

Just, you be patient; count your blessings, and for god’s sake—go call the goddamned insurance company to get your $1,000 back!  Go!  Go forth!!

Love you ;0)

In each individual choice of what the Enemy would call the ‘wrong’ turning such creatures are at first hardly, if at all, in a state of full spiritual responsibility.  They do not understand either the source or the real character of the prohibitions they are breaking.  Their consciousness hardly exists apart from the social atmosphere that surrounds them.  And of course we have contrived that their very language should be all smudge and blur; what would be a bribe in someone else’s profession is a tip or a present in theirs.  The first job of their Tempters was to harden these choices of the Hell-ward roads into a habit by steady repetition.  But then (and this was all-important) to turn the habit into a principle—a principle the creature is prepared to defend.  After that, all will go well.  Conformity to the social environment, at first merely instinctive or even mechanical—how should a jelly not conform?—now becomes an unacknowledged creed or ideal of Togetherness or Being like Folks.  Mere ignorance of the law they break now turns into a vague theory about it—remember they know no history—a theory expressed by calling it conventional or puritan or bourgeois ‘morality’.  Thus gradually there comes to exist at the centre of the creature a hard, tight, settled core of resolution to go on being what it is, and even to resist moods that might tend to alter it.  It is a very small core; not at all reflective (they are too ignorant) nor defiant (their emotional and imaginative poverty excludes that); almost, in its own way, prim and demure; like a pebble, or a very young cancer.  But it will serve our turn.  Here at last is a real and deliberate, though not fully articulate, rejection of what the Enemy calls Grace.

These, then, are two welcome phenomena.  First, the abundance of our captures; however tasteless our fare, we are in no danger of famine.  And secondly, the triumph; the skill of our Tempters has never stood higher.  But the third moral, which I have not yet drawn, is the most important of all.

The sort of souls on whose despair and ruin we have—well, I won’t say feasted, but at any rate subsisted—tonight are increasing in numbers and will continue to increase.  Our advices from Lower Command assure us that this is so; our directives warn us to orient all our tactics in view of this situation.  The ‘great’ sinners, those in whom vivid and genial passions have been pushed beyond the bounds and in whom an immense concentration of will has been devoted to objects which the Enemy abhors, will not disappear.  But they will grow rarer.  Our catches will be ever more numerous; but they will consist increasingly of trash—trash which we should once have thrown to Cerberus and the hell-hounds as unfit for diabolical consumption.  And there are two things I want you to understand about this.  First, that however depressing it may seem, it is really a change for the better.  And secondly, I would draw your attention to the means by which it has been brought about.

It is a change for the better.  The great (and toothsome) sinners are made out of the very same material as those horrible phenomena, the great Saints.  The virtual disappearance of such material may mean insipid meals for us.  But is it not utter frustration and famine for the Enemy?  He did not create the humans—He did not become one of them and die among them by torture—in order to produce candidates for Limbo; ‘failed’ humans.  He wanted to make Saints; gods; things like Himself.  Is the dullness of your present fare not a very small price to pay for the delicious knowledge that His whole great experiment is petering out?  But not only that.  As the great sinners grow fewer, and the majority lose all individuality, the great sinners become far more effective agents for us.  Every dictator or even demagogue—almost every film-star or crooner—can now draw tens of thousands of the human sheep with him.  They give themselves (what there is of them) to him; in him, to us.  There may come a time when we shall have no need to bother about individual temptation at all, except for the few.  Catch the bell-wether and his whole flock comes after him.

But do you realise how we have succeeded in reducing so many of the human race to the level of ciphers?  This has not come about by accident.  It has been our answer—and a magnificent answer it is—to one of the most serious challenges we ever had to face.

Let me recall to your minds what the human situation was in the latter half of the nineteenth century—the period at which I ceased to be a practising Tempter and was rewarded with an administrative post.  The great movement towards liberty and equality among men had by then borne solid fruit and grown mature.  Slavery had been abolished.  The American War of Independence had been won.  The French Revolution had succeeded.  Religious tolerance was almost everywhere on the increase.  In that movement there had originally been many elements which were in our favour.  Much Atheism, much Anti-Clericalism, much envy and thirst for revenge, even some (rather absurd) attempts to revive Paganism, were mixed in it.  It was not easy to determine what our own attitude should be.  On the one hand it was a bitter blow to us—it still is—that any sort of men who had been hungry should be fed or any who had long worn chains should have them struck off.  But on the other hand, there was in the movement so much rejection of faith, so much materialism, secularism, and hatred, that we felt we were bound to encourage it.

But by the latter part of the century the situation was much simpler, and also much more ominous.  In the English sector (where I saw most of my front-line service) a horrible thing had happened.  The Enemy, with His usual sleight of hand, had largely appropriated this progressive or liberalising movement and perverted it to His own ends.  Very little of its old anti-Christianity remained.  The dangerous phenomenon called Christian Socialism was rampant.  Factory owners of the good old type who grew rich on sweated labour, instead of being assassinated by their workpeople—we could have used that—were being frowned upon by their own class.  The rich were increasingly giving up their powers not in the face of revolution and compulsion, but in obedience to their own consciences.  As for the poor who benefited by this, they were behaving in a most disappointing fashion.  Instead of using their new liberties—as we reasonably hoped and expected—for massacre, rape, and looting, or even for perpetual intoxication, they were perversely engaged in becoming cleaner, more orderly, more thrifty, better educated, and even more virtuous.  Believe me, gentledevils, the threat of something like a really healthy state of society seemed then perfectly serious.

Thanks to Our Father Below the threat was averted.  Our counter-attack was on two levels.  On the deepest level our dealers contrived to call into full life an element which had been implicit in the movement from its earliest days.  Hidden in the heart of this striving for Liberty there was also a deep hatred of personal freedom.  That invaluable man Rousseau first revealed it.  In his perfect democracy, you remember, only the state religion is permitted, slavery is restored, and the individual is told that he has really willed (though he didn’t know it) whatever the Government tells him to do.  From that starting point, via Hegel (another indispensable propagandist on our side) we easily contrived both the Nazi and Communist state.  Even in England we were pretty successful.  I heard the other day that in that country a man could not, without a permit, cut down his own tree with his own axe, make it into planks with his own saw, and use the planks to build a tool-shed in his own garden.

Such was our counter-attack on one level.  You, who are mere beginners, will not be entrusted with work of that kind.  You will be attached as Tempters to private persons.  Against them, or through them, our counter-attack takes a different form.

Democracy is the word with which you must lead them by the nose.  The good work which our philological experts have already done in the corruption of human language makes it unnecessary to warn you that they should never be allowed to give this word a clear and definable meaning.  They won’t.  It will never occur to them that Democracy is properly the name of a political system, even a system of voting, and that this has only the most remote and tenuous connection with what you are trying to sell them.  Nor, of course, must they ever be allowed to raise Aristotle’s question: whether ‘democratic behaviour’ means the behaviour that democracies like or the behaviour that will preserve a democracy.  For if they did, it could hardly fail to occur to them that these need not be the same.

You are to use the word purely as an incantation; if you like, purely for its selling power.  It is a name they venerate.  And of course it is connected with the political ideal that men should be equally treated.  You then make a stealthy transition in their minds from this political ideal to a factual belief that all men are equal.  Especially the man you are working on.  As a result you can use the word Democracy to sanction in his thought the most degrading (and also the least enjoyable) of all human feelings.  You can get him to practise, not only without shame but with a positive glow of self-approval, conduct which, if undefended by the magic word, would be universally derided.

The feeling I mean is of course that which prompts a man to say I’m as good as you.

C.S. Lewis

SCREWTAPE PROPOSES A TOAST

London—CIRCA—1961