The Inevitable Results of Political Divorce

There is a miserable tendency, especially in this nation, if one might call it such, to float the notion that we are the embodiment - and some how a rightful successor - to what is misleadingly labeled "Western Culture." Further, we in this twenty-first century are often lulled in to a false sense of accomplishment, thinking that what we do here and now is simply the "end all/be all" of the human condition. Fine enough, but if we should possess such magnificent and tremendous achievements and patterns of living, what need is left for progression? A very fond fool of the revolutionary 19th century once ignorantly muttered, that: "a house divided can not stand." True enough, but that same reckless monster sought to reunite, by force even, an apparent and inevitable divorce of two large families. And now, some time after, we all endure an expectedly miserable family life - an inevitable result of a household that should have divorced, but never did.

In that case, this is a nation whose family has now been, at least in modern terms, legally separated for nearly 150 years; its children are wildly out of control; family re-unions are interminable when they convene every four years; there is no agreement of the proper order of familial law - still more, we take pride in our own personal rebellions against it; many of our children and cousins are little more than naïve infants, who slowly and painfully discover day by day that summer camp and school-yard recess were never actually relevant or helpful allegories for life; and what is more, the natural result of inter-breeding and miscegenation has muggled and distorted our perceptions of family stories – after all, science has proven that all men are equal, so then all men should procreate equally.
But we have protections against our selves and our fellow family of citizens. We see legislation of health, living, smoking, food, the media… and the list includes which ever small insolent aspect of life might not be clearly defined. This has now entirely saturated family life, and the average American family appears thusly:

The parents are the only members of an American family. Great-grand-parents, or their parents, are dead – even if they still should be living, they are ignored by the present generation, and the parents are either innocently or purposefully ignorant of just how it was that their fore-bearers lived. The parents are naturally still uncomfortable for breaking the rules in the middle of the previous century – though their rebellion was neither political or social, but merely a unified whining of growing pains, and their insolence now causes tremendous grief. As with the mindlessness of the so-called “enlightenment” of the mid-eighteenth century, the parents’ generation felt justified, if but for a time, at breaking down that which they did not understand, all the while supposing they did. It is typical to find divorce within our larger families, and one is hard pressed to have a friend or acquaintance who does not suffer the nearly schizophrenic results of personal divorces; divorce was the inevitable result of this generation’s moronical belief that men and women of all races and creeds are able to live equally within the confines of American life.

The long celebrated and feared big brother, now in his prime, proves an even more divisive and undesirable invasion of our lives, and he is always more than willing to call us, inform us of our mistakes, recommend corrections of our inconveniences, or at times to beat us silly as a means of judicial correction.
Then, we begrudgingly shudder as we think to our sisters as various men come along to fuck them (courtship is dead, of course) while they are dressed ridiculously and as they slut them selves out to the world; dressed either as men in slimly cut business suits or out-right butch-ly rags in order to establish that a woman might be independently successful (or at least manly), or in charming sun dresses with alcohol in hand as they sneak away from the Baptist Church’s Sunday picnic – the results are the same: a woman too proud to admit a natural need for emotional attachment, or a woman too proud to admit she never found a man as good as her self.
But of course there is the inevitable younger brother or sister. The younger brother or sister is of course possibly more reasonable, though he is often ignored and only lashes out with extreme anger only infrequently. We have laws so that our younger siblings are not left behind, and that those siblings who need “special care” are lofted up to the highest level of human dignity whilst all along too mentally retarded to comprehend it. There is a divide between the younger siblings which do as they are told, which most do, and the ones who are loyal enough though by habitation fiercely independent. The younger ones want to be heard, and often have decent enough insight to warrant it, but are inevitably muted by the insolence of their elders.

But of course one hears the dying cries of the suburban bourgeoisie, crying out that theirs is a perfect Norman Rockwell home, and every holiday and vacation is a chance to wear their more outlandish popped-collars and embroidered khakis as they sip patio wine and laugh about what ever it might be that these allegedly normal people laugh about. Yes, there are indeed remnants of that already-murdered dream of raising one’s self to the gentry, and they hold on for dear life; they attend their social clubs, notable only in their microscopic neighbourhoods; they send their brat children to only the best schools, or the best schools which they might or might not be able to afford; they yacht and golf and play tennis, then talk about doing these tedious things endlessly; and they demand that their ugly children succeed in the same sorts of masturbatory success in life which they also have achieved. Yes, perfectly happy nests, who have no idea that their social clubs are not in fact chivalrous orders, and that their over-sized houses look nothing akin to the estates and houses of our European cousins that were confiscated or lost due to American interference by militant tourism. These families are to be pitied for their ignorance, as they do not comprehend that their way of life never existed at all and never will.

Bitterly yours,
Kitaev