Amerika

Cinco de Mayo

Today we celebrate Mexican independence. Like other holidays, commerce has turned this one into a good excuse to go out, drink Tequila, wear Mexican™ sombreros and serapes, then declare our allegiance to The Narrative of revolutions being good and real leaders, bad.

For us who are citizens of the cultureless grey race egalitarian Utopian future, it means only a variant on St. Patrick’s Day, but a duskier, racier, south-of-the-border version. It is an excuse for a little more anarchy, permissiveness, and poor decision-making in our lives.

We can go out to the businesses known as bars and restaurants, eat mainstream-modified Tex/Mex food (authentic Mexican food seems to take a back seat, despite being basically Spanish cuisine tweaked to use beans and corn as its base), drink too much, go home with someone unsuitable, and recover tomorrow at work wearing sunglasses indoors to hide our eyes full of hangover and doubt.

In other words, another typical prole holiday. Do many know the history behind this? Cinco de Mayo celebrates Mexican independence from European aristocracy and signals the post-colonial, perpetually-impoverished Mexico that we know today, which depends on drug money and enviar dinero a Mexico remittances:

Cinco de Mayo, or the fifth of May, is a holiday that celebrates the date of the Mexican army’s 1862 victory over France at the Battle of Puebla during the Franco-Mexican War.

Late in 1861, a well-armed French fleet stormed Veracruz, landing a large force of troops and driving President Juárez and his government into retreat.

From his new headquarters in the north, Juárez rounded up a ragtag force of 2,000 loyal men—many of them either indigenous Mexicans or of mixed ancestry—and sent them to Puebla.

The battle lasted from daybreak to early evening, and when the French finally retreated they had lost nearly 500 soldiers. Fewer than 100 Mexicans had been killed in the clash.

In 1867—thanks in part to military support and political pressure from the United States, which was finally in a position to aid its besieged neighbor after the end of the Civil War—France finally withdrew.

It helps to remember that in my analysis, the Civil War was not a good thing, and merely deferred an inherent conflict until later. Instead of being an American war, it was a European one, mirroring the revolutions in Europe which were transitioning it to powerful versions of the State, or the egalitarian regime.

We might view it as an American version of the Franco-Prussian war, itself a junior version of WW1, in which the French egalitarians feared rising German opposition to the pursuit of Equality-Utopia which had already failed in France.

In other words, the Great Bureaucracy had decided that natural human life was not enough, and we needed to remake the world in our image. This proves to be the deciding attribute of Leftism, a desire to change the world from a holistic function to an expression of human intent, following up on “man as the measure of all things” from The Enlightenment.™

Humans in groups tend to unify on fear rather than aspiration, and so they glom together into a vast mass, demanding what benefits the individual at the expense of the whole. This rapidly consumes civilization, but in the meantime, we get prole anarchy.

Like the peasant revolutions which preceded it in history, this human pattern repeats time and again, mainly because successful civilizations enable the growth of people who would otherwise be useless and unable to survive. In time, they outnumber and overpower the good.

We might compare it to a red tide, or a bloom of algae that happens when there is too much food supply. The self-regulating algae are driven out by those which grow without limits, and those quickly suffocate the rest and themselves.

In other words, revolutions are a rush to suicide. At first, it seems like the blooming algae are winning. They have all the resources, the power, and have seized the narrative! However, history requires patience, and over time, it becomes clear that an auto-genocide has occurred.

On day zero of an algal bloom, the red algae declare that the green algae are holding them back. Look, there is food for everyone, we just need to distribute it more equally! The red algae surge in numbers, driving back the green.

Day one dawns with a sense of new hope. Finally, we could abolish the rules cast in stone! The people now have the power; there are no limits, only freedom, and the ability for each algae blot to be itself.

Days two through seven are good times. Plenty of wealth, lots of little algae get rich. They develop some kind of music like disco or hip-hop, based on rhythm and sex appeal. They write lots of books about discovering your true inner self.

The algae even win a series of military victories. With their superior numbers, they crush every competing organism. The algae intellectuals rationalize this as proof of divinemoral superiority, and praise the New Order.

Day eight brings on an issue, however. It turns out that those old hierarchies, customs, and quaint cultural ways were not necessary simply for their utility, but as signals. They gave everyone a place and a sense of what they should be doing in order to be “good.”

This drives the revolutionaries to an extreme. All that is old must be destroyed, because it is the competition. Everything must be made new! Whatever culture the algae had is now replaced by political culture. The new ways must work.

Things simmer for awhile. The algae find themselves embroiled in constant infighting. Special interest groups break out, defining not just politics but lifestyle and explanation for each algae as to why its life is the best one.

Each algae must then throw aside Plato, or the idea that “the good life” is defined by context of civilization, in favor of Weber, whose “fiction absolute” (ably described by Tom Wolfe) describes how each individual finds a social context that justifies his abilities and inclinations.

Around day twelve, signs of the sickness manifest. For starters, algae stop feeling good. They have distributed enough wealth that very little remains to spread around and start new things. The rich algae get richer, and the poor keep what they have, most of which comes from the algae government.

On day thirteen, the sun seems to dawn again. Everything is finally stable. No one is struggling; peace rules the land. It seems as if it will all work out just fine anyway, so the little algae swallow their mounting and omnivorous existential fear and go back to jobs, shopping, promiscuity, drugs/alcohol, and entertainment to keep their minds busy. Any empty hour alone in a quiet room is the enemy now, more even than invading fungi.

Day fourteen shows us a dual reality: the resources are consumed, but worse, a kind of heat death has settled in. There are no inequalities to use to enact not just change, but any kind of response. Only standardized repetition remains.

Now the death begins in earnest. The equally distributed resources decrease in number because there are no new resources, and the bloated bulk of algae are consuming all that exists. The tribe is clotted together, so no one can drift on to new territory and find resources there.

In the darkness of a place beyond space and time, Satan cackles and unfurls his wings lit by fire. A chorus of demons laugh. The intellect has defeated itself again, and so has the heart, because in doing what felt right in the eyes of others, each algae has surrendered his tiny monocellular soul.

On day fifteen, a boater notices that not only are all the algae dead, but so are the fish. The seashore plants are dying as well. Birds have long since fled. Clams expire far below. Only the fungi remain, feasting on the bounty of the failed, emitting noxious gasses.

Whether your group of friends who just fell apart, a band that never quite gelled, the Soviet Union collapsing from within, Athens dropping off the radar of history, or Rome becoming the new promiscuous bazaar of delusional wealth, death has won again.

Nature uses this mechanism to kill off any species which cannot regulate itself. Where did the great statue-makers of Easter Island go? What about the dinosaurs, because they had feathers so Earth cooling could not have killed them all? They ate themselves into oblivion.

We mourn mostly for the green algae, who had some mechanism to check growth. This consisted of some order other than the mob, some hierarchy. Every dozen green algae require a center, and those cells check each other from expansion, or something. Who knows. They died also.

Human populations have exterminated themselves many times in the past, but globalism represented our attempt to become “too big to fail” by roping all of us to the same fate. Now we see it, grinning and demonic on the horizon.

This is what peasant revolutions bring, and what the Napoleonic Wars and later world wars brought to Europeans worldwide. This is what we now bring to humanity, happily all dying together even though we do not realize right now that this is the case.

After all, we still have plenty of cheeseburgers.

On Cinco de Mayo, we should celebrate independence from Mexico. After all, Mexican independence should mean Mexican self-reliance, but instead their algal bloom is linked to ours, and we will all go down together through the magic of diversity and immigration.

We might celebrate freedom from freedom, or how having a hierarchy of natural aristocrats — those gifted by nature with the heredity that gives them fitness to lead, not just react — can save us from algal blooms as well as foreign threats, which turn out to be one and the same, since foreign threats simply want to consume us in order to feed their own algal blooms.

The Liberal Press and The Press Not So Liberal and The Press Reactionary Scream approval: “Above all the myth of other-level experience must be eradicated….”

And speak darkly of certain harsh realities… cows with the aftosa… prophylaxis….

Power groups of the world frantically cut lines of connection….The Planet drifts to random insect doom…

Thermodynamics has won at a crawl… Orgone balked at the post…. Christ bled.. Time ran out….

We are in a life-and-death struggle, whether we accept it or not. There is more to life than the material, and this does not mean merely a supernatural sense although that is there, too.

It means that order, pattern, balance, harmony, beauty, goodness, excellence, and a sense of purpose are more important than what is on your plate, in front of you, right now. Time is a continuum of moments, and that time-pattern outweighs any single moment.

Some of us believe that life is better than any of us, and worth preserving even in the face of mortality (which, again, is less important when you consider that existence is information more than physicality alone). We believe in the future.

To those who love revolutions, that makes us fascists and royalists, the scourge of the universe. And yet, we are all that stands between humanity and its adoring rush to self-destruction.

Enjoy your Cinco de Mayo.

Tags: , , , , , ,

|
Share on FacebookShare on RedditTweet about this on TwitterShare on LinkedIn

Recommended Reading