Then God said, “Take your son, your only son, whom you love—Isaac—and go to the region of Moriah. Sacrifice him there as a burnt offering on a mountain I will show you.” . . . . When they reached the place God had told him about, Abraham built an altar there and arranged the wood on it. He bound his son Isaac and laid him on the altar, on top of the wood. Then he reached out his hand and took the knife to slay his son.—Genesis 22:2-10
I separate political people into those who are willing, like Abraham (“The Father of Faith”), to sacrifice their firstborn son at the behest of their “God” and those who aren’t. I really don’t care who your “God” is—libertarianism, communism, SJWism, Islamic fundamentalism, neoliberalism, socialism, Pentecostalism—if you’re willing to sacrifice real people for your idea, if you love abstractions like “the free market” and “social justice” more than you love real human beings, you are my enemy, and I will do everything I can to keep you away from the levers of power.
Pink and purple brush, every bumblebee’s crush: burdock bloom, magical, miniature mauve broom. François, from Friends of the Mountain, says you’re nothing but an invasive species, nothing but an Old World weed, first found in France. Maybe that’s why you always make me think about the meaning of the French Revolution. It’s good to look in the mirror, from time to time, and ask yourself: Would I have been one of those heartless monsters who blithely said “Let them eat cake”? But it is also good to ask yourself, oh ye friends and lovers of justice: Would I have been one of those heartless monsters who gleefully chanted “Off with his head”?
—John Faithful Hamer, The Myth of the Fuckbuddy (2016)