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The Colonel #35 Engineered for Success

Until such time as our healthcare system moves into the business of regulating human DNA, and fixing the kind and number of people allowed to exist to meet the specific needs of society, for the good of all, human attitudes, aspirations, and actions must be controlled externally.

Current events and the submissive behavior of the masses should serve to remind us of the national march toward this achievable goal.

The great criticism of our republican/representative form of government is its deliberative design. Its propensity to debate, insistence on separate bodies with defined powers limiting direct action of the other parts makes it too slow to respond to the demands of a fast-paced world.

If you’re old enough to have had a single telephone mounted on a wall in your home with a specific ring signaling that the call was for you and now own a cell phone you know what I mean.

Well, speed and accessibility are greater anyway. Whether the cell phone is a real-life improvement is debatable. That we are better people for this advancement in technology seems patently untrue.

“Crisis” is the business of government. The greater the crisis, the greater the fear it engenders, the more human freedom we give up to be rid of the crisis.

It is not an accident that the media broadcasts the same message, right down to the very words across the airways, the clouds, and on paper. The programmed message is inescapable without positive personal action. We are almost beyond the place where we will take action to save ourselves.

We have stood by and done nothing as our neighbors and friends were forced out of business. That’s not accurate. We did do something. We put on a mask and marched to Wal-Mart and its kin or we hid in the dark and tapped out an SOS to Amazon. In doing so we have sent the message that we are ready to surrender our humanity.

Where are all the brave souls who told me during my nursing days that no one would keep them from their loved one’s bedside? Out buying up the toilet paper, cowering the parking lot, and peering through nursing home windows.

And who am I? I am no better. I have fallen prey to the snare of division—too driven to stand with the passive—too distrustful to rely on the rest. I have stood alone in the past waiting for that person who was going to stand up next to me—that person who never got off their backside.

This place was engineered for me and those like me. For the last 120 years, we have been working for this day. It is the day of men without chests in the dawning of the abolition of man.


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