"The abstract, unreal freedom of the liberal intellect was really nothing more than childish disobedience, amplified into anarchy." Roger Scruton
The abstract freedom of the intellect
Unreal, liberal,
Was really nothing more than childishness
And disobedience and disrespect,
Amplified into anarchy,
Easy to refute,
Impractical, absolute.
Yet now we are asked to elect,
Politicians who seek to expand
The laws of this once great land
By turning every senseless demand
Into crushing statute.
“ Faking is a social activity in which people act together to draw a veil over unwanted realities and encourage each other in the exercise of their illusory powers.” (Roger Scruton)
As ape like creatures our proclivity
To fake is a social activity.
And acting together to draw a veil
To cover unwanted reality
Which we cannot allow to prevail
If we wish to preserve our sanity
We succeed in maintaining faith, belief
Not only in our
Entirely illusory power,
But with the rearranging of chairs
On the decks of the sinking ship
We encourage others in the exercise of theirs,
And find to our great relief
That truth’s less important than friendship.
All humanity consists of five main types.
You can class them on the fingers of one hand.
The nice ones are the lefties with their gripes
About the world not really being fair,
Because, I think you need to understand,
That this is how we neutral people judge.
The others are the nasty right wing sort,
Authoritarians and racists, homophobes,
Who ought to shuffle off this mortal coil,
Because they disapprove of 'others' and begrudge
The outgroup taking all their jobs
While at the same time moaning about benefits,
Paid out to shirkers, how they rant!
They don't like change, they're thick and toil
At red neck work, and don't like slobs,
But that's because they're racists, in the end,
Everything comes down to this, you comprehend.
The lefties are the caring, loving goodies,
Keeping standards low and hugging hoodies.
But I'm an academic and no slant
Of bias can be found within my work.
There's nothing that I claim I cannot verify,
By referencing myself, though this might terrify
Those who search for scientific rigour.
I do not give a toss, because I'm bigger
Than those morons on the right,
Who are not very bright,
What are they to me? I'm Mr Big, I'm Mr Haidt
Or wait,
Perhaps I’m really Mr Haidt
Only a note, or two at most, are needed,
Before the brain is calm with satisfaction,
And intellectual stimulation, leaves behind
Deep peace, like God, washed all about the brain,
One feels refreshed, as after summer rain
And highly complex music has succeeded,
Where other types of human interaction
Have left me cold or left no trace upon my mind.
"There’s nothing as significant as a human face. Nor as eloquent. We can never really know another person, except by our first glance at him. Because, in that glance, we know everything. Even though we’re not always wise enough to unravel the knowledge.” Ayn Rand
No art to find the mind within the face?
Yet all that can be known is known at first
The mind's construction always leaves a trace
And we see all, at once, the best and worst.
What other thing holds such significance
That we're equipped to comprehend it all
Within a single glance? With confidence
We can discern the spirit mean and small
The kindly heart, most warm and strong and true,
The intellect of sheer brilliance
The artist in his melancholy blue
The stoic with his strength, resilience.
Yet oft ignoring what’s before our eyes,
We do not judge lest we might then despise.
“Thou can’st not touch the freedom of my mind”
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”
Though thou wouldst have me locked within a cell,
So like the virus thou wouldst keep from me
The mind is its own place, can make a heav’n of hell.
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind,
Nor of mine eyes, for I am free to see,
Though thou wouldst have me child-like, mole-like, blind
Tis not within thy power. I comprehend
The limits of thy would-be endless reach,
Though thou might bind my tongue or gag my speech,
Though thou might seek to dull our frightened brains,
Thou hast not yet, and thus freedom remains,
For us to serve until our tranquil end.
“There's no way to rule innocent men. The only power any government has is the power to crack down on criminals. Well, when there aren't enough criminals, one makes them. One declares so many things to be a crime that it becomes impossible for men to live without breaking laws.”
There is no way to rule the innocent
The only power governments can have
Is that to crack down hard on criminals.
But criminals are in such short supply,
That government becomes a pointless task,
So states invent new crimes and thus create
A means to justify their permanence.
The state declares so many things a crime
That it becomes impossible to live,
Without men breaking endless, petty laws.
And though this has been known for centuries,
Our government still craves to fix its hold
And knowing it can best impose its will,
By naming it an act of good intent
Designed to keep the population safe
From some invisible and deadly thing
Yet we’re not taken in, by their incompetence,
We are not so naive, despite our innocence,
And most of us can see the criminals,
Are those who’d do the hardest cracking down.
And so we have now reached the tipping point,
The great inversion we have reached before,
When man must act according to his conscience,
And know that crime exists in petty law.
