Minister of Public Services from the Minstry of Public Services
THE Minister Of Irony & Public Services....
NAME: M.O.P.
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Picture a beautiful stately home somewhere in middle England. You know, the sort of gaff that`s owned by somebody calling himself "Lord Farquhar", with grand, pillared entrances, seemingly endless lawns, pristine tennis courts, cellars full of impossibly old wine, 17 or 18 bedrooms that smell like musky old library books, servants` quarters, the works! Life is good. Especially if you happen to be born a Farquhar.
The peasants, on the other hand, are beginning to crowd the surrounding villages and towns. Despite their ever-growing hours of work they are still finding the sufficent time to breed like randy rats and, apart from their numbers, their becoming increasingly disgruntled with their rather shabby lots in life. Perhaps most shockingly of all, some of the most unruly and lazy mongrels are starting to shoot invidious glances towards the Farquhar`s Estate!
For centuries the Lord`s ancestors manages to maintain a tight grip on crown control through regular culls. (You may be more familiar with this process by its legal term: War.) Uniting the peasants against a common, foreign enemy used to distract them from any domestic grievances most effectively, but now their apathy is so pervasive that even the most gullible young men dont seem to be buying into it anymore. If left unchecked what would become of the Farquhars private utopia? What if the peasants became aware of the undeclared war that`s been raging against them for generations?
It won`t go that far. The battlefield is normality and our weapons are quiet ones. We fluoridate the water supply to keep them complacent. Then, as soon as they are old enough to control their resultant bodily functions, we send them to the same indoctrination centers their parents attended. We will teach them to refer to their training as "career advice" and later they will suckered into accepting perpetual debt as "money" and jostle to join the herds in chasing it thoroughout their sad lives. But don`t despair for them. We will show mercy by shortening their time here through injecting them with diseases that we euphemistically call "vaccinations." You see, we`re not all that bad.
All this in quite inconceivable to the enemy. And their ignorance is our strongest weapon. as is their complete ineptitude when it comes to looking after themselves. The post-millenial slave class is nothing more then an evolutionary back-alley, a catch-22. For if it were not for our centralised food production systems they would not be alive to complain! They are cattle and they will eat whatever we put in their troughs.
So, upon hearing this, what`s a simple peasant to so? Storm the Farquhar perimeter? Put the Lord`s head on a stick and toast it with a crystal glass of 1990 Chateau Le Pin? What then? No, this is a quiet war. There`s no need for pitchforks. JUST STOP DOING WHAT YOUR TOLD. It`s dangerously simple, isn`t it?
In Lawful Rebellion: Everest Fernandez - www.tpuc.org