Progress, Perversion, and Power
It’s not a pretty picture. Crime, lies, and decadence prosper — pompously.
The Left sneers. Illegal voting is OK — as long as it’s for “us.” A corrupt “Justice” Department thumbs its nose at the law and at the law-abiding. A bureaucratic behemoth inflicts a thousand points of pain at every turn. No one is spared.
There is a reason for this, of course, beyond the mere desire to win elections.
Conservatives need to understand this
about liberals (oops!) “progressives”: they consider themselves to be different from, and superior to, the rest of us.
On what do they base this patently arrogant assumption?
Look at the name: “progressive.” They do not believe that anything is true, that anything is permanent, that anything is worth preserving, if it impedes their version of “progress.”
They are heirs to a long and tarnished tradition. Karl Marx perfected it, but it existed long before, and it has survived many a setback since.
Because their consciousness has been magically raised, “progressives” are the “anointed” ones. And thus they have not only the right, but the duty to burst through the barriers that custom, history, tradition, and generations gone by have built to thwart their hubris. Barriers like law; barriers like ethics; barriers like cultural norms, common decency, the natural structure of the family — indeed, as we have seen in recent decades, barriers like the family itself.
When we observe the narcissism that propels them into the worship of the birth control pill, abortion, and mandatory population control, we scratch our head and wonder — is their sex drive the sole reason for all this?
It is not.
But sexual self-indulgence for the masses has long served as a dependable distraction — as easy as it is convenient — from the progressive’s consummation of his (and her!) truly supreme libido: the libido dominandi, the lust for power that Augustine describes as the driving force of Satan and his followers who seek to dominate the world in the name of the City of Man and the annihilation of the City of God.
Sucha Flake — or whatever her name was — merely served Nancy Pelosi as a foil to conjure up for the squalidly self-indulgent (who constitute her core base) the specter of the demons of morality and self-respect that were coming to take away their sex lives.
Millions fell for it, of course, because they had been impoverished by “teachers” who are nothing more than dull, plodding intellectual thugs, the Thought Police who run the government schools — and run them grimly into the ground.
In September 1976, Spain, newly liberated from the spirit and specter of Francisco Franco (who had died almost a year before) was finally in the hands of a new “democratic” government.
Now, that government comprised a gaggle of third-raters who had waited for years to assume the reins of power.
At the time, Spain was evenly divided — as it has been ever since its own Civil War 80 years ago — between lovers of tradition and lovers of chaos.
Aaah, the Spanish are such a noble race!
How, then, to overcome the institutions and laws that had liberated Spain from the disastrous Left in the 1930s, that kept it out of World War II, and that sowed the seeds for a limited monarchy, a prosperous middle class, and the republican government that Franco promised would succeed his own reign?
On a sunny September day in 1976, my roommate came home to our apartment in Valencia with a surprise:
“Marisol — Desnuda!”
“Marisol” is an abbreviation of “Maria de la Soledad” — Our Lady of Solitude.
And Our Lady was undoubtedly feeling pretty lonely on that day of infamy.
The excitement was vibrant! Marisol’s name was on every lip and tongue and more!
Marisol, the child actress and singer who was the closest figure Spain had to our own darling Judy Garland, had bared all for Intervu, one of Spain’s most popular weekly magazines.
On the magazine’s cover.
On every street corner and kiosk.
Every Spaniard, of every age, had to see it. They were forced to see Marisol desnuda.
In your face.
That was the plan, and it worked. Men who had been brought up to be noble and valiant protectors of their own wives and daughters, as well as the wives and daughters of everyone else, were now invited to suffocate their character with seduction and sex.
Aaah, the New Spain was progressing indeed.
The birth rate dropped like a stone. Promiscuity — once universally regarded as a private vice — was now honored as a public virtue, a human right, and a liberation — not only for men (who found promiscuous sex to be as entertaining as it is destructive), but for women, who willingly left behind their dignified status as wives, mothers, and family matriarchs to become shallow, sexualized objects competing for admirers and exploiters like the vagrants hawking lottery tickets in every central plaza in Spain.
The ruse had worked. With the conscience of the pueblo thus anesthetized, Spain’s power-lusters slyly divided themselves into “opposing” parties, while they plundered Spain’s treasure, character, and history and drove the country into the abyss.
Today, Spain is virtually childless, virtually bankrupt, and quite literally in ruins.
And Marisol? Her collapse was complete.
She joined the Communist Party, dumped two husbands, and, having done her damage, she disappeared into voluntary obscurity thirty years ago.
At least she was consistent.
Saturated by porn, illegitimacy, contraception, abortion, and divorce, and ruled by renegade tyrants who keep the masses ignorant, intimidated, poor, and powerless, our countrymen watch in shock as lawlessness infects every level of government and the culture in the name of “progress.”
Karl Marx once wrote that philosophers had sought to understand the world. “The point is,” he wrote, “to change it.”
His progressive acolytes seek to keep us from understanding the world so they can destroy it.
And they’re winning.