by Michael Doliner
(Swans - June 20, 2005) You, my dear fellow American reader, are out of your mind. Nuts, and not in a nice way. Look at your smile
in the mirror and you will see it. But worry not, for you are an inmate of a vast loony bin known as the United States of America.
And you belong here, too. No one will ever let on. Look around you. Is someone buying a newspaper? What could be madder?
Perhaps people walk or ride to work, or enjoy themselves sitting in the sun. A couple holds hands. Madness, madness, all patent
madness. Quite clearly such fools are out of touch.
Were you normal you would scream every time someone invited you to have a nice day, writhe in agony whenever you
received one of those goofy smiles from a cashier. You would shoot yourself if someone at the next table commented at the quality
of the wine. You would weep at the sight of a mother and child. Any mention of the President of the United States would make you
puke and his image would strike you blind.
I hasten to admit that I am no saner than you. I, too, walk around engaging in the fierce farce of ordinary life. I am as
responsible as anyone for this bloody nightmare at the end of the world. I admit, I have answered the phone as if nothing were
wrong. I have noticed the doings of the United States Senate. I have concerned myself with the quality of my dinner. I comfort my
children and worry about their future. I even try to save money knowing it is drenched in blood. I sleep in a bed, in a room, and
feel safe. It is all madness...madness.
I should throw myself at Moloch, immolate myself on the White House steps, organize opposition, or something. But when I see
the daft faces all around me I know I would simply be swept up, carried away, and swallowed. I would be willing to be arrested,
tried, even sentenced, but not disappeared pointlessly into Moloch's maw. I could regret having only one life to give for my
country, if I could stand up and say it. I would obey the laws, as Socrates taught, even to death, if it were the laws that condemned
me, in an open trial, before everyone. I admit it: I don't know what to do and I'm afraid. For it is not only them. It is you and me
and our crowded asylum with no one in it.
http://www.swans.com/library/art11/mdolin08.htmldp
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