At his best, man is the noblest of all animals; separated from law and justice he is the worst. –Aristotle
WHEN THIS WORLD CATCHES FIRE
BOOK THREE: SAVAGE NOXTOWN
CHAPTER TEN: PART SEVENTY: KINGDOM COME
“Listen good, Yobs, to the story of Jake Leaming,” said Count Victor Justin. “For it very well could be your story. He was all right, for a while. But when he went on one of his infrequent benders someone must have slipped him a deluxe mickey, or something. Because after several years of serious boozing, he began to espouse all manners of crackpot theories. He would go on and on about genetics, and half the time you thought him a genius and the other half he sounded off like the worst soapbox agitator for miles around.”
“We always say that people in the past were most cruel. But let’s face it. People are animals, and animals are cruel. It’s in their nature, he would say. It’s in their nature. Always that word, ‘nature’.
“Don’t tell me that a dog licking tears off your face is adorable,. he only wants the salt from your tears and sweat. In other words, he’s a parasite. A dog only loves you for mutual protection. Feed him and he’s yours. Try to take his food away, and you get bitten. It’s as simple as that. And men aren’t so far removed. Just try it, Yellof. See where it gets you. Young animals will turn upon the old. I’ve seen it happen many a time. Not that we’re immune. We’re just more refined about it, that’s all.We just call them old fossils and stick them in a garret somewheres.
“No, Yob, life is an eternal con game from start to finish. The only high points are when you make a score against a mark. That’s gravy. Everything else is just meat and potatoes. Call me a cynic if you like. I prefer the term ‘realist’. As far as I’m concerned, there’s two types of animals. The quiet sorts, and the loudmouths. The hunted and the hunters. Let’s face it–the loudmouths always win. Always. They’re too well loved by every force that regulates nature. And my the way, here’s something to remember: ‘Mother Nature Don’t Care.’ It is only in the most civilized precincts that the quiet ones can make any contribution at all.
“But this has a downside. The weak culls are dragging us down. As a people, I mean. Look at horse racing. Horses are put out to stud to improve the breed. Why don’t we do as much for humans? Let a good man retire at 40. Send him to a Sanitorium where he can fuck himself silly with his pick of creamy, willing fillies with child-bearing hips. But no–that would be too logical. Instead, we allow youngsters to breed, will-e nill-e. The sad results are everywhere to be seen–particularly in the slums and poverty pest holes of our great metropolises. Listen, people, to what I say: There is no piece of turf so small that it can’t be fought over. Right down to a blade of grass. Sure, and been there, and I’ve seen it with my ane two glims.
“As I grow older, I am more and more convinced that it is not the conservative who is the enemy of mankind. No, Yob–it is the meddling Goo-Goos, always willing to implement welcome reforms, but with no regard for the consequences. Take, for instance, the locomotive. If train travel were truly cheap, as the progressives would have it be, then there’d be no more breeding from local stock. Every thrifty swain would venture to a strange city to hunt and woo his lady fair. The results–socially–would be catastrophic. There would be no quality control. Which is paramount. Otherwise, we would quickly become a nation of weeds. Take Ragtime, for example–obviously a plot by the Illuminati to make colored people breed. For what purpose it is not yet evident. But it will be soon…with the coming need for a docile and compliant slave class. One with all the undesirable traits weeded out. Independent thought. Bad impulses. Love of dice and razor blades.To name just a few.
“That’s why I say all patent medicines should remain legal. Howsoever lethal they might prove. Let the stupid ones kill themselves off. Slaves to a dose bottle or slaves to a corporation–what’s the ever-lovin’ difference? I’m sure that if God cared about us at all, He would agree with every word I say.
“Now, I am well aware that there will be a lot of soft-headed sentimentalists and spiritual bosh-peddlers on both sides of the racial divide who will decry such an approach. They will say ‘I don’t care about my own life. The most important thing is that I complete my mission, the work that the Lord Jesus gave me—to tell people the Good News about God’s grace.’ Haw! Go peddle that malarkey on Wall Street for a government dollar, and see how many suckers bite! Answer: Nil. Nit. Goose egg. Why? Because I said so. Therefore, shut up.
“Then there are those of a more scientific but no less sentimental bent who will say that we are not animals, and that we are not subject to the laws of nature red in tooth and claw. I say fiddle-dee-dee–of course we are. The only difference is, the human animal is remarkably good at making flip-flops to justify his animal behavior as somehow merely more fully human. But it’s all a load of rubbish. The brain of most rubes is a remarkable mechanism designed to emit a cloud of welcome, vision-obstructing fog whenever a plain fact manages to venture its way down the pike. I am right and I know I will be proven right. People will generate any excuse at all, just so they can go on believing what they believe. Let’s say the Democratic party nominated an actual yellow dog for that high office. The Southerners, to a man, would be rhapsodizing about the sleekness of his fur, and the cleanliness of his teeth, and about what a fine occupant of the executive mansion he would make.
“And just try to tell them that they’re nominating a dog–an actual dog–for the highest office in the land. And they won’t hear you. At best, they’ll tell you that you’re in league with the wreckers, and ask you why you want to make the devil fat.
“There’s just no accounting, Yob, for love…and politics.”
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