Feeding the Meat Grinder

3 04 2010

The apostle, John, wrote about a time to come when people would not be able to buy or sell without the mark of the Beast.  At the time that he wrote this, people were far less dependent upon currency than they are today.  In a worst case scenario, one could always drop a line and catch a fish for dinner.  One could still do this today, but even the simple act of fishing is regulated through permits that require money to purchase.

Once, I had the remains of a neighbor.  Rather, it was the remains of his home, along with all of the telltale evidences of his former life.  His crumbling abode sat between two hills, surrounded in brush and overlooking a valley some distance below.  One of the walls had fallen to the ground, giving the home an ample view of the scenery.  Some exploration yielded an old dirt road leading up to his place, though it had become hopelessly hidden beneath foliage by the time we found it.  The more we explored the place, the more relics we found, testifying to the life of one who had come before.  He had dug himself a well and lined it with rocks.  Nearby, he constructed something resembling a barbecue pit.  Up the hill from his place, we found a pile of quartzite, which he had apparently smashed to pieces in his search for gold.

We presumed that the man was only a gold miner, until a fire swept over the property and eliminated what was left of his house.  Underneath all of that scrub we discovered that the land had been plowed into rows for farming.  Because of the fire, we also found what was left of his car, as well as a small flowerbed in front of his home, lined with rocks.  We know it was a flowerbed, because the daffodils sprouted after that fire, a living remnant of the lost legacy.  We had not seen the flowers before, but they sprouted through the ash, still growing right where they had been placed.

Public records told the rest of the story.  Our government had taken the man’s home for failing to pay his property taxes.  Rather than leave it in the hands of its owner, they took it from him and gave it to the forces of erosion in the 1940s.  Our mystery man had built a life with the intention of living off of the land.  One might easily doubt that he succeeded.  One might even propose that he had abandoned the property by the time the government took it.  This may all be true, or it may not.  Nevertheless, our man illustrates a problem that he may have failed to consider.  No matter how hard one works, or how successful a man is in providing for himself, unless he does something to actually generate cash, he cannot pay his taxes, here, and if he cannot do that, then the government will take his land.  If that happens, then he can no longer provide for himself.  Property tax is the infinite tax.  It is the tax that keeps on taking, over and over for the same thing.  It is the mortgage that can never be paid off.  Minding one’s own business and being completely independent is not an option, here.  Somehow, I do not think that this is what our founding fathers intended.

So much depends upon cash.  The government makes the stuff and gives it to us that we might add value to it and give it back.  We are the providers, giving up the meat to the civil meat grinder.  Our masters want only two kinds of citizens.  They want, most of all, the providers, providing the necessary cash value and services to feed the machine.  They also want the dependents, nursing from the great teats of the government like a newborn calf.  What they don’t want are a bunch of free spirits living off of their own land, minding their own business and doing their very best to be left alone.  The country has become more than just a territory.  It has become a machine.  Those not actively participating in the function of that machine are without any real purpose in the mind of our government.

Never mind that purpose is endowed by our creator and has no bearing on human masters.  The American government has been exempted from a national religion, for which it has substituted a public education.  The effect is still the same, but it gets around the problem of separation of church and state.  First, it came as an act of benevolence, providing education to those who could not pay for it.  Then education became mandatory.  Now, in Germany homeschooling becomes illegal.  This religious/educational institution provides all of the functions of a church, indoctrinating us as to our purpose and origins.  Without a creator, we have no innate purpose, which serves our government well.  What’s more is that it is exempted from the same rule that suppresses the competition.  The hierarchy of public educators increases in stature and influence, while the hierarchy of the church declines.  Education used to be a function of the church, and it is the very force that pulled the world out of the Dark Ages.  It is still a function of a church, but this is not the church of our forebears.  This church is the meat grinder, and we feed our children to it daily.  We give the government our offspring, and they force them into the mold.

A coworker of mine frequents the deep southern territories of Mexico, where money is a foreign and unused thing.  When he needs a place to stay, he knocks on the door of a house and they let him in and feed him.  If he were to offer them money, they would not take it.  They do not want it.  They do not need public education.  They do not need money.  They do not waste their lives away in fruitless ambition.  They live far from the meat grinder.  They neither provide the meat nor eat its hamburgers.  I cannot help but think that this is what our founding fathers envisioned.

But we are an ambitious superpower.  The pride has gone to our heads, and more so to those in power over us.  We are no longer content to sit by and merely be happy.  We must dominate, and, in so doing, we have become dominated by the greatest among us.  Non-participation is no longer an option.  We must get an education.  We must have a job that pays cash.  We must have health care.  A person who cannot pay taxes has no value.

Get into a single-file line.  Walk slowly into the grinder.  Don’t complain.  Take your number.  Take your turn.  We’ve got our society all nicely gift-wrapped for the Antichrist.  Satan would be proud.

Profiles of Power

7 11 2009

PutinThe Premier (Prime Minister, etc.) of Russia has more nukes than he knows what to do with.  He eats caviar for lunch and executes dissidents for entertainment.  Even when he leaves office, he’s still in power.  His people are perfectly free to support his reign.  They can even worship God, as long as they get his permission, first.  He likes to pose shirtless for the press, sporting his lean toned flesh for the world to admire.  Yet, that flesh could stop a bullet about as well as the flesh of your obese aunt, about as well as the flesh of an over-ripe banana.  Maggot food, his corpse will rot in a grave just as nicely as the man he had shot just an hour ago.  Russia will move on, and their fine leader will end as all mortals do, moldering in a grave, resident of a fine pinewood box.


The President of the United States is the leader of the free world.  He’s got the biggest, baddest military in his back pocket, to be sent wherever, whenever, whether they like it or not.  Other nations coexist because he lets them.  Harbinger of change, advocate of remittent peace, he’s here to tell the world how to run, how to live, what to drive, what lightbulb to use.  He has the hubris to cover the name of Christ.  He intends to take your money and spend it for you, because he can do it better than you can.  Yet, with all his wisdom, he has neither the will nor the knowhow to prevent a single Iranian nuke from transforming his guts into a radioactive ash heap.  Even if he survives his term in office, he still won’t survive.  He has a one-hundred percent chance of ending up in the dirt, providing nourishment to thousands of hungry nematodes, and there’s nothing he can do about it.


Bill Gates has enough money to buy a small African nation.  We all suspect he secretly owns Idaho.  He was the nerd you kicked around in grade school.  Now, he practically owns you.  Your web browser is his.  Your operating system is his, too.  With a little foresight, he could force this post off of the internet entirely.  Oops, did I forget to say what a nice guy he is?  He’s so important that people will buy his software even when it admittedly has bugs chewing through it like the grubs that will one day celebrate Thanksgiving on his brain.  Like your Windows system, Gates will one day get infected by a worm.  Unfortunately, there is no patch for that.  There can never be a Bill Gates version 2.0.  I see a blue screen in your future.  It’s a lot like a bright cloudless sky, except without the sun, birds, breeze or, for that matter, sky.

boss  Your boss may not be rich, but he has more than you do.  He’s got your financial wellbeing wrapped around his little finger.  When he says, “Jump,” you say “How high?”  or else he says, “Come see me in my office.”  Your Christmas is in his bank account, so your report had better be on his desk.  Maybe you’ll get lucky this year.  Maybe there will be a little something extra in the paycheck.  Maybe your coworkers will get bit in the butt by the recession before you do.  Yet, your boss can’t pay you to live a single extra day.  One day, his suit will hang in his closet, never to be worn by him again, unless it happens to be for his own funeral.  He can fight to keep the company afloat, but he can’t do a thing about his own mortality.  All things considered, at least his fate will be no worse than the others.


That guy in the Beemer who cut you off on the freeway has a nicer car than you.  He’s got a bigger house than you.  He’s got a prettier girlfriend.  Even his children are more attractive than yours.  As he passes you on the right shoulder, he shows you his finger.  That’s when you realize that he even has a better manicure than you.  The jerk has everything and everything is on his mind, including business prospects, wealth, power, dinner, the windshield, a telephone pole, the concrete divider that he didn’t see and about a hundred feet of open asphalt.  Yes, he’s got everything.  His heirs will be quite fortunate when he dies.  The worms are already setting the table for him.  Don’t forget the salt.


The paraplegic down the street got the short end of the stick.  He’ll never be rich.  He’ll never have that car or that house, or any of the things that the others take for granted.  He can’t walk, and he can’t bathe himself without the help of a nurse.  He’s imprisoned in a rolling chair and a malfunctioning body until the day he dies.  But this man has something that the others don’t have.  He has a hope for Heaven, a faith in Christ and the assurance that the God who chose which embryo would be his to inhabit will one day give him a body that will never fail him.  He knows that one day he will dance on the streets of gold, while most of the world serves as fodder to invertebrates.  Indeed, he is more fortunate than the able-bodied souls who never knew God.  He is richer than Bill Gates, more hopeful than Barack Obama and tougher than Vladimir Putin.  God holds his future.

He won’t even wave an obscene gesture at you on his way to Heaven.