Mammon has become my kinsmen’s one and only god. Their sponduliks hold them sway, while their consumerist lust creates a kind of oligophrenia. Who then can challenge the obdurate hierophants of Mammon? I feel such presage in my heart, trepidation even, when I hear their constant chanting: “Consume more!  Save less!  Work more!  Care less!  Capitalism is our zest!” Those old Olympian gods they’ve beaten down, and they erected in their stead a temple deifying the most egregious of human sins for the scrofulous purpose of exonerating those mattoids, who now inhabit our beautiful, golden capital and the illustrious city once the apple of our eye!

They abrogated our democratic virtues, while we were in our narcoleptic haze. Our youth has been rendered tame, mute, and pusillanimous, vacillating between their conscience and their querulous cries for more sedation. All the while, Mammon’s acerbic acolytes, garrulous pickthankers, and nocent skelms deliver their tractates, their apologues in efforts to turn even our oldest of humanistic creeds, “love thy neighbor,” into acrimonious slush in the ears of the most wanting of wantwits!

Who are we then to blame? The economists, whose service has more than adulated their dubious God? The politicians, those blue-haired servants of Mammon herself? Are we ourselves to blame? Contrition requires us to make sacrifices of ourselves for the sake of each new generation that supersedes the one before. Yet we have given up on that and adopted the malapert Pyrrhonism which rejects anything which challenges education that turns us into haughty, self-absorbed, self-entitled malcontents. We bully, maim, and, yes, even kill those with the temerity and succor to cast light on our collectivist masochism. Dare we look into Introspection’s scrying mirror to assuage our deepest of fears? Within it’s dark, translucent surface under the Moon’s discerning light, we catch a glimpse of the evil god with the ominous grin, and it bears our own reflection.

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