The Heartlessness of Darkness
The Only Love For America Is Green
December 25, 2002
Few joys of the bourgeois frolic, variously known as vacation or holiday, can surpass a solstice of luxurious natural hedonism on a secluded private tropical island. Madonna-white sand, pristine beaches, perpetual westerly trade winds with their cool and natural spiritual reinvigoration, palm trees swaying their rhythmically sexual intoxications and native charm stripping from us the oppression of the industrialized world replete of its superficiality and the harshness of its rigidly imposed societal norms.
Just kick off your shoes, drop your drawers, disavow any proper linguistics and enter the realm of the native from whence you came. This levy to humanity’s original state of innocence is instantaneous. Gone are the meaningless trivialities of deadlines, credit card payments, and mankind’s material insensitivity to the Divine world of nature. As the half-naked savage with few creature comforts and an unconstrained rapport in sync with our pre-original sin innocence you are once again free to frolic in the playground of the “born free”.
You are at one with your being; you are at one with nature and…you are at one with your now non-fellow creatures.
Damn the military-industrial complex and its oppression of the masses. The inhumanity of production line quotas spewing forth meaningless products like pharmaceuticals, electronics and consumer goods can never justify the damage it does to the masses. Modernism enslaves people and holds them hostage from their God-given destinies.
In Rousseau’s kingdom of the noble savage, mankind is gleefully endowed at birth with all natural rights in addition to limbs, eyes, and a tongue (the brain will remain a question of infinite speculation). Got myself physical power, got myself a club and got myself the ability to kill…Got myself no society, got myself no government and got myself no constraints. Burn baby, burn.
For all of those Americans who insufferably suffer the guilt of prosperity and think that there is something divinely noble about third word cesspools, think again.
The second most noticeable aspect of life in the third world is the continuous loop of natives who incessantly proclaim their love for you, your country and even your pet tick…if that is what it will take to smooth you out of a tip or gratuity. And…speaking of firsts, nothing is more priority one than the prime objective of liberating you from your Yankee dollar.
Less than childish, it is a laughable extent to which almost every member of a third world population will sink in pursuit of your Yankee dollars. But the laughter can easily turn into anger.
As an interim step to my final destination, I was stranded in a former British colony as an In-Transit passenger. The simple explanation is that I was originally supposed to be in this Former British colony for about an hour and catch a charter flight which, in turn, would take me deeper into the heart of ignorance and poverty. As is usually the case, I sat in the airport terminal and watched my charter flight load and takeoff without me.
Formal explanation; your connecting flight was too late and for security purposes we could not board you. So, you now have the advantage of spending a night on our beautiful island which you should view as an opportunity to experience our charms.
Translation; this is one of the oldest travel schemes in the business. When hotel bookings are light and business is off…strand a few In-Transit passengers to fill hotel rooms and sell restaurant meals. And…there is nothing achievable without the extortion of a tip which is inevitably, the end-game. But every cloud has a silver lining and, in this instance, my silver lining was an insight into the hypocrisy of another “Hate America First” foreign nation.
Physically, this Former British colony is a beautiful holiday destination. The beaches are spectacular, the accommodations can be first rate and, at least outwardly, the population is friendly. Economically, the island is dependent on tourism and sugar cane. But, peel back that sugar cane a bit and all that’s left is another bloodsucking foreign nation whose only use for Americans is the appropriation of Yankee dollars. Also, the natives are not averse to illegally dumping their excess population on the shores of America and usually at the front door of the welfare system.
Getting your toe wet in the miseries of the colonial waters begins at immigration. Here is where thousands of people form insufferable queues only to be stared at by immigration “officials” who treat tourists like interlopers rather than a rich source of manna. Of course this can be true of most bureaucracies that deal with the public. But let’s get real, tourists travel to resort destinations to enjoy the sun and surf…not to smuggle home the obscene birth rates replete with its poverty. What bug or disease could I import to a third world nation?
The real native experience starts the second you clear immigration. Your friendly natives swarm you like flies on poop. Every hand is outstretched in quest of your money and any lie will be told to get it. Every time a smiling face offers a common courtesy as simple as opening a door, there is a hand outstretched for Yankee dollars. And…God forbid you refuse to be extorted…get ready for the Bruce Lee touch of death stares.
Fortunately, I had access to a television that “sort of” worked, but unfortunately, that television brought me the gibberish called local programming. One show enlightened me about the U.S. perpetrated scandal to relieve native Black people of their “wealth”. If it had not been for government television, I would never have gotten the inside scoop that U.S. security exchanges were racist vehicles designed by the descendants of slave owners to perpetuate black poverty. The real advice from the Street in this colony is to invest in such secure locales as Trinidad and Jamaica because black brothers will protect the investments of other black brothers.
Lest we forget, it was also reported that the recent gangsterism surrounding the Miss World pageant in Nigeria had nothing to do with terrorism or fundamentalism. It was resultant from American inspired freedom of the press. The viewers were assured that Nigeria is one of the friendliest and safest places in the world because they believed in black solidarity. Wonder how Miss Sweden feels about that?
I really can’t blame this former British colony for their nonsense. It is simple regurgitation from a distorted liberal world press and the license afforded by a pathetically apologetic U.S. Foreign Service crew. The simple fact is that, on a world-wide basis, Americans are generally hated except for the green pabulum they carry in their wallets. But those Greenbacks are potentially the most powerful weapon in the U.S. arsenal.
The bottom-line truth is that America rarely needs any country as much as that country needs us. We take their overflowing populations and increase their standard of living 10 fold upon arrival to our shores. All courtesy of the American taxpayer and our government’s ridiculous immigration policies.
Naïve travelers waste hard-earned Greenbacks for substandard levels of service, treatment and products which would never be tolerated domestically. Why? Because we are a polite and compassionate nation that actually wants to believe all of that native tradition crap.
Wake up America. The most effective weapon ever developed is the dollars in your pockets. Spend them strategically. During a long walk in colonial hell, a taxi with the word “Taliban” prominently painted on its side pulled up and asked me if I wanted a lift. Thanks but no thanks was my response…go ferry bin Laden. With a parched throat, I entered a little bar and all of the world’s flags were flying from the ceiling…all except the U.S. flag. I asked the manager why there was no U.S. flag and his reply was a scrambled transmission. “Well, you must not like Americans and Americans should know that if you don’t like them, you don’t like their money. See Ya!”
I am now enroute to destinations were the veil masking American hatred is very thin. As the journey deeper into the heartlessness of darkness, I keep remembering the first person I met when this trip started. Departing for JFK on the outbound leg of this journey, I sat next to a very impressive fellow, although somewhat somber, who was traveling to Kuwait. He was an army Blackhawk pilot. Just prior to Christmas, this brave soul left family and country behind to answer his call to duty and, in doing so, brought honor to us all. The least I can do is to spend my dollars wisely.
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