I need to stop reading Vonnegut. Every time I read one of his books, I feel like he’s saying everything that I want to say, and he wrote a lot of them before I was even born. Lying politicians doing their best to get us all killed, sociopathic citizens wrapped up in their own stupid little worlds, people who want to do the right thing but can’t because the rich and powerful are too seldom among their number.
Rage.
That’s the only emotion that comes to my mind, because it’s the only sane reaction to have. How else are we supposed to deal with our society? We tell poor people that it’s their own fault they’re poor, because if they were good enough to be rich, then they would be rich, and that’s accepted as normal! We have rich people who lie and cheat and steal to make an extra million dollars when they’re already worth more than 99 percent of Americans will make in their lifetimes, and that’s accepted as normal! We proclaim that our government is guided by the benevolent hand of God as we rain missiles and bombs down on other countries from unmanned drones, which we’re designing to be able to pull their own triggers, and that’s accepted as normal! Praise Jesus and pass the Predator controls!
Rage.
There’s an utter disconnect between what we say we want and what we actually do in this country, and it’s a disconnect we buy into willingly. We cry about health care and drive fast food companies to record profits. We bemoan the economy but refuse to raise taxes on those who can shoulder them (hint: it’s not the poor people). We eagerly crawl toward the lashing whip of servitude and ignorance because it’s easier to build a stadium than a spaceship. We keep telling ourselves that this time it’s going to be different and then we walk in the same old ruts around the same old circle and complain that nothing’s changing.
Rage.
The only conclusion I can come to is that, as a society, we’re insane. One definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, and Vonnegut’s words ring just as true today as they did when he wrote them. It’s not all bad; there’re still some people who want to act with empathy, who want to treat others with tolerance and respect, but not enough are willing to be loud, to speak their minds, to rage against the madness that engulfs us all.
Rage.
Don’t wait for me to write a letter for you—write your own! Let the world know how angry vapid stupidity and blind indifference make you. Don’t expect someone else to always show you the way—lead yourself! Make changes now, raise your voices now, fix the disease now, show your rage now, while there’s still a chance to do it peacefully; and to those in power, I would urge you to listen to the peaceful protests because I can promise you this.
Rage.
The longer we continue on this path, the greater the odds grow that one day someone like me will experience that same rage. Only it won’t be someone like me. It will be me sans empathy, sans control, sans restraint—equipped with an absolutely murderous desire to burn this entire structure down because of the completely callous lack of sanity that lets children starve in streets while another CEO proclaims the virtuousness of wealth. It will be me, armed not with a pen but with any sword that comes to hand and the same driving will that’s made me so successful in everything I’ve set my mind to, the will to win no matter the personal cost. It will be me, and all those like me, sick of the greed and hate, driven by the shackles our system keeps building to the only viable response left open.
Rage.