I love the state and its various monopolies and intrusions.
It makes me feel safe in a cold, uncaring world where I exist on a hunk of rock flying around an explosion due to a series of deterministic events so multitudinous that I have to invent an imaginary friend to abjure the Lovecraftian horror of it all.
But deep down I know that ultimately it's a house of cards.
One catastrophic event here, one systemic failure there, and bam, you've got hordes of people in the streets (literally) gatecrashing the Winter Palace.
So what do I do? I make talking about getting rid of the state illegal! I love the state, you talking about getting rid of the state scares me, so I make talking about getting rid of the state illegal. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am (no gender essentialist), no more fear.
But since talking about things is one of the great myths this particular state was built upon, this creates something of a logical absurdity, so I hide that under the bed like a small child who claims to have cleaned his or her room by throwing in some anti-immigrant requirements with my ban too. Nothing gets the rubes to line up here to sign on like blaming immigrants for their immiserated state.
Howard W. Smith, we who are about to die but still live in utter fear of this fact and sundry other things, salute you.
