Heroes for Ghosts

Heroes may not be braver than anyone else. They’re just braver five minutes longer.
-Ronald Reagan

Billie Holliday and Mickey Mantle were fallen by the bottle, Tiger by lust, Judy Garland her doubts, Ernest Hemingway his demons. Far from perfect, we continued to believe in them, not for their weaknesses but for the brilliance of their light. For the challenges they rose above so we might be witness to the talents that lay inside each of them. Heroes were once an integral part of who we were, the people who resonated with our hearts and gave us a reason to try harder – to keep on trying.

It seems we no longer want them though. We’ve become self-indulgent, cynics who believe the reflections we think we see in our mirrors. Thin and wanting for heroes, we’ve empowered bureaucrats to dissect the very core of those who fall… with a fervour that only a salaried, bitter, failure can. Like parasites, their motivation is to tear us down, not elevate us. They leave nothing unturned. Like locusts, every last leaf is consumed, every stone overturned, each trail scrutinized. Witnesses are coerced or bought, information is wrung like dirty water from an old rag.

The perfect man or woman is not. Each of us harbours our own vices and obsessions behind well-maintained, politically correct facades; yet we demand a price from those who achieve greatness, far beyond anything we would be willing to pay ourselves. Not only do we want their physical sacrifices, we want their souls.

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

-Pink Floyd, Wish You Were Here

-billy

Paint it Black

I’m not sure how I arrived at this Place. It feels like I’ve been here my whole life but I know it isn’t true; somewhere along the way, things just changed. A care free, somewhat introspective, but mostly hopeful young lad gave into the force of what one can only be described as the Church of What If,  buying fully into the ways of those who strip the colours right out from under your life.

Its that place where all people have ulterior motives, where large corporations create marketing departments with messages to tell the People What They Want To Hear so they (the alphas in charge) can get back to doing What They Really Planned on Doing all Along. It’s the place where those esteemed representatives we elect to manage our world are really just a collection of greedy, corrupt, self-serving bastards who’s only goals are to get as rich as possible and tell lies with such incredible style that both they and their faithful believe them. It’s that place where people rarely do kind deeds without selfish motivations driving them, the place where squeegee kids aren’t victims but the actual problem. Its that place where all those people who walk around telling you to have a good day don’t really mean it, all suffering from as much denial as the alcoholic on the morning after.

shawshank
It’s the place where we believe all the good in the world’s been done, all in the past now; our only hope is recognizing the lies, the false prophets and the self serving for who they are: destroyers of life as we know it – then calling them out on it. Isn’t that the ultimate payoff for us Cynics, the grand slam? That one time when it all comes together: you got The Right Response idling around in your head, the perpetrators standing right before you in the middle of the act, the choir of the unbelieving bookending you between themselves and the loyal souls who’ve always believed your story, even if you were a dark cloud over their heads most of the time. Then, with absolute Grace and Ease
you strike, launching the biting verbal assault you’ve held back your whole life; your sheer power forcing the guilty to confess, the choir to convert and the loyal to remember once again why they listened to all your bullshit in the first place. This is what its always been about, it’s napalm in the morning.
As you turn away without so much as a glance at the fallen, you feel the blood of Bill Bonny coarsing your veins, you smell the smoke curling from your Colt. You’ve dealt a fatal blow to the Assholes of the world, your deed soon to become the stuff of legends.
Welcome to the inside of my head.
-Billy
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I Rage, Therefore I Am.

It is one of the purest hallucinogenics known to mankind. When induced, we can literally feel it course through our veins! Like a surgeon’s scalpel, it quickly cuts away the fog that lives in our brains, eliminates distractions from the margins, creates intense energy, instills confidence and withers doubt. It protects us when threatened, speeds up our reaction times, elevates our strength and heightens our senses. It turns otherwise uncertain ditherers into highly convicted decision makers.

Is this the perfect drug or what? Are there side effects?

Not exactly, well, there may be a few, but let’s face it, nothing in this world comes for free. No life-giving medication comes without its side effects, no reward without its risks. There is no physical addiction, so no nasty withdrawal symptoms when you decide to stop! It may increase heart rate and blood pressure slightly, it may cause occasional grinding of  teeth, dilation of pupils, and increase body temperature. Initial onset may bring about sweating and  mild physical discomfort. Other risks to be considered but not feared are the rare occasional destruction of persons, properties and marriages. Self-induced alienation is often suffered by chronic users. Death, while an extremely rare event can be a very real risk, either through violence or cardiac arrest. It has been known to bring on very rare violent episodes or uncontrollable physical actions, may cause loss of comprehension and ultimately guilt.

The vast majority of us will become users at some point in our lives, all too often it will become a regular occurrence. In spite of the fact that the benefits are short-term at best, users are willing to sacrifice the sanctity  of their homes, the love of their families and the respect of their community for the short-lived high that in the end is a sign of weakness rather than strength.

It is a demon we call upon when we’ve nowhere else to turn, a stimulant of last resort. In latin it is called iratus, in Ancient Greek it is thumos. In any language it is a highly addictive, uncontrollable stimulant that takes over all who give into its whiles.

It is not only America’s drug of choice, it is the world’s!

-Billy

 

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.”
-Maya Angelou

 

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