Mike Rivero..

I really shouldn't be allowed near a keyboard when I am recovering from a cold and juiced up on Nyquil.

It's Sunday afternoon. Claire is upstairs working on music and I am laying on the futon, having watched the original 1933 version of King Kong which has just been released on Blu-Ray, and I am dozing. Down at the bottom of the hill is the Aloha Stadium and as today's Pro-Bowl gets underway the sounds of the cheering crowds drift up the hillside. In my dreams, I mingle the sounds of the game with the images of the native cult on Skull Island, screaming and chanting as they prepare to offer up a village child as a living sacrifice to their deity. In my dream I see a modern stadium filled with my neighbors and friends, cheering as an innocent human sacrifice contemplates the final moments of his or her life. Above the hapless victim stands the Witch Doctor whose power and influence grows with each drop of spilled blood. The crowd roars its approval as the final act brings an end to innocent life.

It is at this point that a burst of fireworks and the over flight of a formation of military jets just over our roof brings me back to the present. As I listen to the sounds of the crowds, I imagine that they sound exactly the same way as those crowds in Rome who roared while slaves fought to the death in the Colosseum or Aztec Shamens tore the hearts from still-living victims.

In a moment of clarity, it occurs to me that we have a death cult taking center stage in America. However, because it comes dressed in the latest fashions, we fail to recognize it as such. Movies like King Kong teach us to see grass skirts and a bone through the nose and skulls on poles as the signs of primitive barbaric rituals. But that is silly. Barbarism knows no fashion sense. Atrocity always arrives dressed in the latest styles.

As I listen to that crowd caught up in the symbolized and abstracted warfare of a football game, I could easily equate that sound to the cheers that greeted Adolph Hitler's call for war. From there it is a short leap to imagine the same crowds cheering as Newt Gingrich, or Mitt Romney, or Sarah Palin, or Michelle Bachman all call for endless war across the face of the globe, reveling in the blood lust and hoping, like the Skull Island witch doctor, to hold away over the people with images of blood and horror just as the Roman Emperors did.

Can you not see it? Can you not see the almost universal love and worship of death inherent in the present US political system? Obama says all options are on the table with regard to Iran. All options, that is, except for peace.

As our roads crumble, and our schools close, and our quality of life collapses, still the attention of the nation's leaders remains focused on war and killing. They love it, They are entranced by it. They glory in it. Death excites them, and the more horrible it is, the more orgasmic they are to contemplate it! No amount of other people's money is too great to spend, nor any number of other people's children too many to sacrifice. There is nothing but greed in our leaders' domestic policy; their hearts are in their weapons! Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Libya, Somalia; on and on and on, without pause, without satiation. In their minds they are gods incarnate, able to bring death to whole cities with the flick of a finger.

Throughout history, no death cult has ever survived. Some flame out very quickly, like Jonestown. Others, like the Nazis, or Pol Pot, take a bit longer to commit sociological suicide. Rome lasted longest of all. But eventually they all fell and as they neared their end, the devotion to the cult of death become ever more fanatical; the thirst for other peoples' blood unquenchable. There is the warning we must heed if we are to turn aside from the current cult of death and the priests and priestesses who rule it.

The United States is not a nation comfortable in the 21st Century. Our rulers yearn for the easy days of the 1950s and the height of the cold war when America were conditioned to wet themselves upon hearing the word "Commie", then hurl their money at the Cult of Death, and their babies onto the enemies' bayonets. Worse, our leaders long for the world of the middle ages, before the Magna Carta made torture illegal. Our leaders long for Skull Island, where they can offer up your children as a living blood sacrifice to their Cult of Death with your obedient approval and worship.

We are on the wrong path.

There is, of course, one candidate who is not caught up in the cult of death. A certain doctor who spent 30 years of his life bringing new babies into the world, and by those very actions, demonstrably a man who reveres and worships life. The American Cult of Death hate that man, of course, because the first rule of any death cult is that like all cults it must appear to be the only possible way of life. There can be no alternative view of the world, no safe refuge where one can escape the blood rages.

When people ask me why I still want Ron Paul as President it comes down to a very simple explanation. Ron Paul is the only candidate out there who embraces and celebrates life, while all the others are priests and priestesses of the American Cult of Death, ready to extend their thumbs over the sand of the Colosseum, and whose stated intentions are to end life, everywhere they can.


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