If not for some troublesome human traits—unfortunately widespread—Communism and Socialism might well attain versions of the goal of a classless society. Two of the more common difficult traits, greed and unbridled ambition, prevent achievement of the utopian dream. Genuine idealists may yet believe the desire for a classless society can be met; but they are delusional. Once exposed to the fruits of money and power, the less committed idealist unknowingly becomes an apologist for greed and ambition. People whose passion for the ideal is laced with hairline cracks begin to justify social strata and uneven distribution of wealth. They reason that achieving equality must necessarily occur gradually over long periods of time…enough to merit their own “temporary” superiority and economic dominance. Coming to these conclusions does not require complex logic nor deep study—only a willingness to be painfully honest with oneself about one’s own morality. And that is an exceptionally difficult reckoning.
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During the year-plus Phaedra has lived here with us, she has shed well over five thousand pounds of snow-white fur. If we had allowed it to accumulate, floor joists and beams would have buckled under the weight, splintering massive timbers into useless shreds of pine. But we try to keep up with her deposits of cat hair, vacuuming four hundred pounds of fur per month—around one hundred pounds per month. Losing one hundred pounds of fur every month is not a problem for her, though; she grows back that much and more. I do not understand why she does not lose much dark hair. Maybe it’s just a matter of background and visibility.
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My weakness is irritating in the extreme. When I get out of bed, I feel like getting right back in; sleeping another few hours (even after 9 hours in bed) is extremely inviting. I can get nothing of consequence done, except for emptying my brain of empty thoughts onto this blog. The idea of picking up a five-pound bag of sand, aside from being pointless, is frightening; it might crush me under the weight. Give me ten minutes, though, and I easily will be able to lift up to nine pounds. When I compare myself now to the man I was before, I see few similarities. But when I ask myself who I was then and who I am now, I can only mumble about serving in Napoleon’s army and how it changed me from a soldier to a monk who carries a mace and a grudge. Despite what these words might suggest, I am a peaceful soul who has a low threshold for combustion—a gentle man who, when disappointed, tears galaxies into chaotic clouds of exploding stars. Just look into the night sky at the edges of the Andromeda Galaxy; my work.
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With a return to semi-sanity, I bid you a good day and a lifetime of happiness and love.
