Power and Greed and Corruptible Seed

seem to be all that there is...

One of the things that makes Bob Dylan great is how sometimes he just nails it. He doesn’t always, no one can. Except Shakespeare.

But often enough, Dylan does. And in his classic song, “Blind Willie McTell,” he offers a line for the ages, the title of this post, above.

Today as I write this, I’m stunned. The world has turned out to be very surreal lately, starting with the Biden-Trump debate, where the nation watched and wept and shook its collective head and asked, “Is this really the best we’ve got?” But as it often happens in world events, politics especially, that night is now like a car wreck way far back in the rear view mirror, obscured by the dusty gyre of our current circumstances, and the nation, like Hunter Thompson’s red Chevy convertible in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, goes careening down the highway on a journey straight into the secret, dark, fetid heart of America.

It’s as if all the angels watching over have added up the number of souls who’ve signed their names onto the Luminous One’s contract, and realized they no longer have the numbers - so they left, with a shrug and a “Have at it, fools, see how it works out for you. Call us when you’ve changed your ways.”

And here’s the group that Lucifer, the Angel of Light, the God of the Age, has picked out, as his very clever subordinates.

In case you’re wondering, he’s behind the curtain. Clarence Thomas just had a chat with him, which is why he’s got that smile. The six in the middle are the ones in his clutches, who all ruled, on July 1st, three days shy of our national day of Independence, that America’s president basically is immune to prosecution. This eerily supports Trump’s boast years back that, “I could stand in the middle of 5th Avenue and shoot somebody and I wouldn’t lose voters.” The Supreme Court concurs, that, indeed, as long as it was official business, like meeting with his constituents at a ceremony on Veteran’s Day, for instance, he couldn’t be prosecuted. His motive couldn’t be questioned. If he was heard to say, “I just didn’t like his attitude, the way he was looking at me, you know?” that would be inadmissible. In borrowing a gun from a military officer, that too would be protected, under official business as Commander in Chief. Or, much like Homelander after blasting someone to bits with his heat vision, he could merely say, with a shrug, “I had classified information he was a spy.” And the information, of course, would remain classified.

One can envision many many things. The president ordering the arrest of drag performers on the grounds that… well, they too were spies. Hiding flash drives in their wigs. Or maybe he just decided they didn’t make America great. Or round up worshippers at a mosque, because, well, would he really need a reason for that? Or declare martial law here and there because immigrants who were rapists and drug dealers were secretly infesting a once proud American town. Or throw Mike Pence in prison, no questions, no process. Because he was a traitor to America. I’d suggest to Hillary, relocate to Canada. Safer and cooler.

It’s been said by those who like this ruling, that the military would refuse to follow illegal orders. Hah-hah-hah. You gotta hand it to those people, they’ve got a great sense of ironic humor.

Meanwhile, behind the curtain, the Bright Angel is thinking up more incidents of chaos than I ever could. He’s dictating it all, something called Project 2025.

Power, and greed, and corruptible seed seem to be all that there is.

Bob, however, never a complete fatalist, put that word seem in there. Leaving room for that sliver of redemption to infiltrate. Even the tiniest sliver is space enough to coax the angels back in.