As I primp and clean myself, my house, and my children on this national holiday, it occurs to me that the 4th of July is the closest thing we have (U.S. citizens) to a collective mythology. Sure, Thanksgiving and the Winter Holiday (better known as Christmas to mainstream America) may offer a more individualistic nostalgia. However, both of the aforementioned 4th quarter celebrations have been thoroughly putrefied through the corpuscular gluttonies of corporate crack dealing (the drug of choice being consumption, of course).
When speaking of the 4th of July, we give reverence to the day in terms of being "American's Birthday", where we, (at that time "we" meaning the white men with property, but it can be safely argued that the spirit of the "independence" stretched to the women and non property owning other white men) declared our independence from the tyrannical rule of England. Indeed, the other core of the myth is that the Declaration was signed, sealed and delivered on the 4th of July in 1776 (which, in actuality, did not occur until August of that year). But, independence is, as independence does and we settle for the date as affirmed by the Congress at that time (how very Forrest Gump of us).
Fast forward 233 years later. We now have a president with recent African heritage in the White House (if the science is correct, we are all, technically, African, the earliest humans having franchised up and outward from there). We also have trillions of dollars of debt sitting on the U.S. books. The Federal Government has stepped in and "saved" banks from the evolutionary tides of insolvency and death. Failure has been propped up like a scarecrow in a wheat field. Yet, it is the "independent minded-ness" of the Americans that the men behind the curtain are trying to frighten into submission. Too big to fail has become a cliched mantra, a spectral floating in between the shock and awe-some-ness of celebrity deaths, disintegrating state governments, and political sexual sagas (to the great orgasmic awakening of a new breed of journalism: political tabloids).
As I cogitate upon this all the more, I am envisioning scenes from the Wizard of Oz, where the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, and the Tin Man are all pimps for the little man behind the curtain (sounds an awful lot like Congress, and, perhaps, the Executive Branch?). Our Good Witch of the North (our celebrities, Hollywood myth makers and religions--at least for some) are mere distractions, they aren't helping at all. Instead of the house landing on the Wicked Witch of the East, the housing market landed on top of the middle and struggling classes (not so evil, except for the fact that many ignored the recklessness of trying to live the Lifestyle of the Rich and Famous on a credit card; individualism without the requisite personal responsibility, the cost: trillions of taxpayer dollars). Meanwhile, our feckless trio are being paid billion dollar bonuses to lead Dorothy down the wrong road. I think they are holding Toto for ransom somewhere. (Are the Munchkins our credit derivatives?)
But, our consumption continues. Because, you know, consuming products from corporate monopolies is the individual thing to do (sarcasm is my Glinda the Good Witch).
At least, for a moment, in the hub of sparkling illusory 4th of July illuminations, we can put aside the macabre spectacle of taxes, debt and death (two of which Ben Franklin stated were inevitable…since we went into debt to fight the Revolutionary War, I don't know why he didn't have that as a compulsory of reality as well). We can take a day, merely a moment in the span of evolutionary history, to come together and celebrate our "independence" with corporately farmed animal and plant produces, while lighting up a few legal (and in some cases, not my own, illegal) pyrotechnics, and swilling brand name alcoholic/non-alcoholic beverages (all roads lead back to corporate oligarchy) to enjoy the "freedom" of watching things explode.
I hope it's only the fireworks that detonate and isn't a foreshadowing of the U.S. as a re-enactment of the Hindenburg Disaster. Perhaps, the Titanic is a more apropos image, as it went down on tax day. Such is what happens when man-kind (and I am using the noun "man" with great specificity) believes that he is above nature. The Wizards of Corp. know that economics is beholden to the natural cycles of crests and troughs. They made billions (if not more) betting against their own troughs. Welcome to Animal Farm, the pigs are officially in charge.
However, those of us who have hung our hats on a credit derived living are as guilty as the Flying Monkeys. We bought into the inverted myth of freedom through indentured servitude (mort = death, gage = pledge, we've pledged our death in repaying on the lenders terms). We fueled the "act like teenagers now because feeding impulse feels good" brand of individualism, "independence" devolving into narcissism. Now, we are akin to the middle aged man, gripping on to a lost adolescence and throwing a temper tantrum because he wrecked the leased Porsche while attempting to chase down the next cock tease.
Grow up America.
Individualism does not mean that we get to act like a jack ass for decades and some how skirt the consequences. Our kids are not as exceptional as we want to believe (after all, the government has rewarded corporate failure, why wouldn't this trickle down in some fashion?). We demand exorbitantly high wages for menial labor. Many state that they don't want the government to be the "Nanny" yet they drop their kids off in public classrooms and expect that his or her needs must be the sole focus of a poorly paid, over worked teacher (who has more hoops to jump through just to get that pittance of a paycheck). Many bitch, moan and threaten lawsuits because they believe that high expectations means the kids are being harassed or discriminated against, and yet when they fail, it is the fault of everyone else (because taking a week or two off in the middle of the school year to go to Disneyland in no way interferes with a kids education). Meanwhile, parents stroll through public places, gabbing mindlessly on your $300 iPhones, ignoring their kids, and allowing them to gain negative attention through posting fist fights on Youtube, and irritating strangers with their lower order skill sets. We have turned into our own worst enemy.
For those of us who worked our glutes off and who delayed gratification until after the hard work was done, well, many of us feel like we've earned bread and water in return. If only I could just click those Ruby Red Slippers and return to the pre-Tornado era. Oh, wait, I was born in 1974, and, honestly, it feels as if I've been caught in this tornado for 35 years. Plus, I think my Ruby Red kicks have been repossessed (or maybe Toto is chewing on them in my closet; it figures).
This heroic journey has only just begun. But, what I can promise, to myself, and yes, ultimately, to the rest of America, is that when personal responsibility is combined with the proverbial rugged independence, then those "men behind the curtain" lose their power to sway you into mindless fear. Throughout any Odyssey, there will be sacrifices. Ask yourself what you are willing to sacrifice (I recommend first giving up the Pandora's Box of "isms" that serve only to narrow the mind). You cannot have both low taxes and maintain the number of governmental services at current levels. Neither should the Wizard of Id give the Corporate Olympus tax payer money in order to turn a profit. Remember, in order for the Corporate Zeuses to remain in the realm of the living, they need you to need them.
Personally, they can throw all of the Aphroditic diversions my way, and I will still survive through the Corporate Greek Tragedy of Goldman Sachs working the Oedipus Redux. It doesn't mean I won't look. After all, I need to replace those Ruby Slippers.
Happy 4th!
