So here we are. Another interregnum in the interminable terror that goes on forever. Another ceasefire that neither quite ceases nor fires. More negotiations that neither go forward or die either. The old world is dying and the new world struggles to be born. Now is the time of morons.

This interregnum goes on because the regnant won't go, they'd rather kill children to keep the future from coming. The ceasefire doesn't hold because ceasing would mean retiring from the field, but firing would mean dying there, so they just kinda do both and neither at once, like Schroedinger's pussies. And the negotiations don't go anywhere because the 'Americans' are dumb, and the 'Israelis' are under the table with bombs. It's all one White Empire and if they ever appear to be of two minds, it's on purpose.

It's not that Donald Trump (79) or Joe Biden (83) personally have dementia, but that 'America' does, on a political level. As Sheikh Ahmed Yassin (founder of Hamas) said in a 1999 interview, “Any entity founded on injustice and plunder is destined to be destroyed. The power of no one in the world lasts forever. You start as a child, then you become a teenager, and a young man, and then you become an aged man, an elderly man, and then it’s over. The same is true of countries. They progress little by little until they become extinct. This cannot be helped.” Trump and Biden, in that sense, are true representatives of a dying body politic. Demented old men for a demented old country, all of them near the end, trying to entomb as many innocents with them as possible.

I used to wonder, going back further, why did it take 10 plagues for Pharoah to learn his lesson? I would have stopped when the Nile turned to blood, or certainly by boils, that'd be the one. In the Quranic telling, I didn't understand why Moses prayed for Pharoah to go harder, saying, “Our Lord, You have bestowed upon Pharaoh and his nobles pomp and wealth in the present life, whereby they lead people astray from Your path. Our Lord, destroy their riches and harden their hearts, so that they shall not believe until they are faced with grievous punishment,” (10:88). Why harden their hearts? I think I get it now.

Going back to my own tradition, my government name is Indrajit, meaning son of Ravana. Ravana is commonly known (in India) as a demon, as a villain. Yet in cyclical Hinduism, there are no permanent villains. In the longer telling, Ravana was once Rama/Vishnu's servant, and by dying at his hand, Ravana was returned to heaven. If you rewind three past lives, Ravana was the celestial doorman Jaya, who by blocking the baby-sages–the Sanat Kumaras—was cursed to a fate equivalent to death, being reborn as a mortal (the worst).

To soften this curse, Ravana was offered seven good births or three bad ones before his return, and he chose the shorter path, to be a villain. And so when Rama killed Ravan, he actually liberated him. In Hinduism everything repeats, so you never know how a story goes. So it is in life, I suppose.

At some level the White Empire wants to die, and Iran, Russia, and China if they ever get around to it are putting them out of their misery. And at some level their hearts have to be hardened (or their brains, at least, retarded) to make it go faster. If 'America' did the logical thing and traded rather than tiraded they could be treated like an elder statesmen (entirely undeservedly) for another century. But instead they want to rage, rage, against the dying of the White, whiting themselves out in decades, as abject villains, condemned as worse than the Nazis. Choosing the shorter route of a few bad births, to be reborn in some other form.

All I know is that I am a mere mortal, finding the machinations of gods and demons interminable. I only have so much time to walk the Earth and I have seen so many children put under it that it hurts. I know there are people walking the earth today that may be reduced to statistics tomorrow (may their God receive them with honor). I know that better men than me clean their rifles, while I rifle through theory, idle. I fear that somewhere, soon, will be rubble and take cheer that someday, near, Empire will be in trouble. But no one knows where or who. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, as John Dunne said, it tolls for you. Or as Hemingway said in the eponymous novel, “If we win here we will win everywhere. The world is a fine place and worth the fighting for and [yet] I hate very much to leave it.”