Money is a virus

Money is a virus. It cannot replicate itself without a host. Because corporations receive the political status of people, the host does not actually have to breathe and eat and all that jazz. But the virus depends on susceptibility. The people in the corporation act merely as the regenerated cells of an organism in which genetic coding is activated. One cell sloughed or killed is replaced by another.

Every person is affected to some degree. Some get it much worse than others. While it suffers nothing at all from the death of an individual or even a multitude, someone must remain to desire it.

Through inheritance, money infects generation after generation. The inherited form can cause all kinds of symptoms mimicking the earned form, but actually more debilitating to the patient. A person who has inherited a severe case may feel special in their delirium, and exhibit paranoid and defensive behavior.

Because the virus has both desirable and undesirable effects, highly susceptible individuals will justify their unwillingness to treat their condition by spinning myths that accentuate only the perceived advantages to themselves and others as a result of infection. In this way it mimics a drug. The virus affects the brain as well as the body.

As with the bacteria in our intestines, we need some money to maintain a healthy condition. But exactly like the bacteria in our intestines, too much of the virus throws us far out of balance. The illness of one can have damaging consequences for many people, even those who have not been directly exposed to the sufferer.

When we die out, will our money remain like dormant viruses, until another species of hosts develops susceptibility and takes up the dropped tokens of our social disease?

Deployment

The cellist has found a job in her specialty, teaching orchestra. It's back in Maryland. In mid-August we become a long distance couple.

Couples have been pulled apart by economics throughout history. There are no good old days to which we might return. Her career here has been a constant struggle. Because her specialty is teaching orchestra her life will be somewhat of a struggle even where conditions are the best for someone with her skills. She left a full time position in Maryland 15 years ago and is returning only to a part time job. So-called non essential subjects like music and art get carved away by budget cutters, their faculty disregarded as hobbyists and dilettantes compared to "real" teachers.

Here in the harsh and rocky wilds of northern New England the grim people who pride themselves on facing grim reality set their grim mouths in a tight line and ask, "what did you expect? We told you it was no good here."

You should have learned to do something useful. But even useful people are struggling. There always seem to be more people than jobs. You take what you can get where you can get it.

The Republic of the Gun

I was going to title this "Guntopia," but that term is already used pretty heavily by the people who would enjoy living in Guntopia.

I had this sudden brainstorm that the best way to bring about the armed society is for the armed to start killing the unarmed simply for being unarmed.

You could set some limits. You could warn the general population that this was going to happen, to give the undecided time to weapon up. You could exempt people below a certain age. Spouses who had signed a dependency contract and wore a badge to signify that they were under the protection of an armed person would be off limits at least for round one. Later, of course, when disputes are settled by combat, it might be necessary to take out someone's spouse to teach them a lesson or to advance the conflict. It's about eradicating dissent, after all. Disagree at your peril. This thing could escalate. When it does, the baddest ass will prevail. And this is how God intended. The quick and the dead.

After the mass slaughter of the pacifists there would still be plenty of firefights. The slaughter wouldn't even count as a firefight. It's more like the extermination of a pest. Once that's out of the way the real fun begins, against worthy adversaries who know the value of combat skill and equipment.

No doubt some defectives would appear in every generation and start whining about peace. A quick one through the forehead will take care of that. Maybe you give them a little time to grow up, but once they hit 18 or 20 they need to start seeing the light or you'll have to put a skylight in their skull.