On Oil and Pro Wrestling
I've never been much of a pro wrestling fan, but I can't say I have anything negative to say about the enterprise. Fans, for the most part, understand that what happens is scripted. They part with their money and/or time willingly and buy into what, to them, is an entertaining illusion. Sponsors very transparently pay for their share of the attention toward encouraging the fans to willingly part with yet more of their resources, and by and large it's one big and mostly-happy (save for the occasional pile driver gone awry that sends a poor wrestler to the hospital) symbiotic relationship.
It seems to me that Bush, Ahmadinejad, and Hugo Chavez could easily be wrestlers on a pro circuit, and just like wrestlers, they carefully preserve the convenient illusion of their differences-in-principle. Their "commercial sponsor" is oil, in which each has a direct or indirect interest in terms of the control of wealth and power. The "fans" who's senses they must manipulate toward maximizing their return are, first and foremost, oil futures investors and, secondly, their unwitting citizenry. The latter, through the careful if not always simple manipulation of political and religious fervor, can be expected to put up the bodies and blood that support a sad fiction cum reality. Pro wrestlers are good at looking tough, acting tougher, and getting a surprising number of people to care about their fictional rivalries. Our leaders are magalomaniacs who are good at looking sincere, hiding their intentions, and getting a surprising number of people, through fear and flag-waving, to die, let their children die, and squander their resources in support of conflicts that are, above all, meant to concentrate power and wealth in the hands of the few or the one.
If it weren't for the danger of being discovered, there's little doubt in my mind that Bush, Chavez and Ahmadinejad would be only too happy to shake hands and pat each other on the back behind closed doors, working out who would bitch-slap whom next to make oil futures jump five dollars. Like proper pro's, they have roles to play. Each is, after all, trying to fill a belt. A money belt. And, unlike a wrestling championship, there's no need to take turns. Also unlike the more honorable fictional endeavor, I'm not being offered a choice not to sit in the audience, and though I'm fortunate enough to not have had to pay for admission with the life of a loved one, I was stiffed at the door along with the rest of Americans, Venezuelans, Iranians, Iraqis and, in truth, most of the rest of the world. Our leaders have jumped out of the ring and become our masters, and, through our own weakness and lack of vision, we've let it happen.
It seems to me that Bush, Ahmadinejad, and Hugo Chavez could easily be wrestlers on a pro circuit, and just like wrestlers, they carefully preserve the convenient illusion of their differences-in-principle. Their "commercial sponsor" is oil, in which each has a direct or indirect interest in terms of the control of wealth and power. The "fans" who's senses they must manipulate toward maximizing their return are, first and foremost, oil futures investors and, secondly, their unwitting citizenry. The latter, through the careful if not always simple manipulation of political and religious fervor, can be expected to put up the bodies and blood that support a sad fiction cum reality. Pro wrestlers are good at looking tough, acting tougher, and getting a surprising number of people to care about their fictional rivalries. Our leaders are magalomaniacs who are good at looking sincere, hiding their intentions, and getting a surprising number of people, through fear and flag-waving, to die, let their children die, and squander their resources in support of conflicts that are, above all, meant to concentrate power and wealth in the hands of the few or the one.
If it weren't for the danger of being discovered, there's little doubt in my mind that Bush, Chavez and Ahmadinejad would be only too happy to shake hands and pat each other on the back behind closed doors, working out who would bitch-slap whom next to make oil futures jump five dollars. Like proper pro's, they have roles to play. Each is, after all, trying to fill a belt. A money belt. And, unlike a wrestling championship, there's no need to take turns. Also unlike the more honorable fictional endeavor, I'm not being offered a choice not to sit in the audience, and though I'm fortunate enough to not have had to pay for admission with the life of a loved one, I was stiffed at the door along with the rest of Americans, Venezuelans, Iranians, Iraqis and, in truth, most of the rest of the world. Our leaders have jumped out of the ring and become our masters, and, through our own weakness and lack of vision, we've let it happen.