Philip J. Rappa: Rhapsody For Democracy
Rhapsody For Democracy
By Philip J. Rappa
There is a lunatic king in our midst. A monarch crowned by an irrelevant parliament, a man whose character traits exude a convoluted contrivance of being cavalier, insincere, incompetent, and arrogant.
Twice born so we are told into privilege. Moved by a messianic spirit, this mega-maniacal king rules with missionary zeal. Upon the world, he unleashes an evangelical radical foreign policy: a call for moralistic imperialism.
This boy-king is carefully crafted and managed by a modern day Svengali called Rove. Each day we are witness to his stagecraft, his Machiavellian machinations. From moment to moment we are bewitched by his wizardry. This boy-king is as malleable as damp clay in the dominion of the Rove technique. He is easily metamorphosed into a manifestation of a leader of an elitist group whose agenda is world domination. Each day this boy-king is coached and encouraged as one would a parrot to mimic the persona of a world leader, cheerleading with drunken abandonment his obsession to spew doomsday scenarios.
Whilst the instruments of deification are in full swing - the polls pay homage to this new boy-king. Never left alone to his own devices, his father offers his services as consiglieri to his prodigal son. He is learned in the age-old art of leadership through alchemy.
The father stresses the need to conjure images, ideas, and symbols of freedom that will be useful to mesmerize the populace and as a powerful source of their enchantment.
This boy-king has found his swagger, his niche, ruling the masses by means of fear, and above all else, by way of fear in perpetuity. He has fashioned and deftly honed a reinvented mythical style of leadership, renascent of a time not yet vanquished from our collective memory. Living under siege of fear void of a vision or a plan for a peaceful tomorrow, eliminates the promise to, or remnants of, hope itself.
What shall become of the capital of our once proud republic, home to our heritage and our finest ideals? Our once shining city on a hill, now as twilight is to darkness, is shrouded by moral turpitude disingenuous duplicity and a doctrine of clandestine enmity towards its citizens.