The Face of Evil

Have you ever seen a politician in action up close? I had the unfortunate experience of dealing with one last weekend and the encounter left me feeling tainted and unnerved. I wanted to take off my skin after and throw it in the laundry for a long and thorough spin. I find these people dangerous, as if a brief meeting with them could poison you in ways you could not even imagine. I’m afraid of osmosis.

There were two of them, actually. I am still not sure which one was more vile and repulsive. It’s like choosing over Azazel and Beelzebub—bumbling, idiotic demi-demons from hell with power to lord over unfortunate beings. I’d rather not deal with them at all. They’re crude, yes, but still dangerous and ruthless. The people around me treated them with respect, out of fear, out of self-preservation. They turned me into the sacrificial lamb, mounted and strapped on a cold stone slab to appease their avaricious deity.

I don’t know if I am more disgusted by the fact that I went there willingly, unaware of what was truly happening behind the scene, or that the people who were supposed to have my back betrayed me so easily. I went there with a brave face, confident that I was prepared to do battle (and I did), certain that the information I had was sufficient ammunition to hold off the attack and keep the evil at bay. And then I was blindsided.

I also cannot decide whom to hate or pity more—the greedy bastards who were openly violating our rights or the people I trusted who folded and bowed without a fight and even celebrated with shameless delight to have earned the approval of their new lords. The demonoids were not even charming or cunning and lacked intelligence, finesse, and sophistication. How could they have let themselves be duped by these malevolent creatures? How could they entrust their souls to them?

One of the traitors tried to do a Pontius Pilate and disinfect his hands in public. He wanted me to feel good about the decision of the group and, with forlorn eyes, asked me how he could make things better. I had about 20 knives stuck in my back—I don’t think anything could make me feel comfortable about that. Another dolt said that I had no choice and we lived in a democratic world. Majority ruled, yes, but democracy was not in the room.

I don’t claim to be better than my neighbors. I understand their necessity to placate the demonoids, but I’ve lost faith and I feel that some part of me was shaken, not completely extinguished, but badly battered. I can’t help but wonder about the world. Humans remain the same, afflicted with cowardice and greed, despite our “evolution” and living in a post modern age hot wired to sophisticated technology and populated by “civilized” institutions. Heh. We are still barbarians even if we’re garbed in Chanel and drive around in our BMWs.

I am not young and innocent as I used to be, but I keep certain ideals, my principles, and my beliefs close to my heart. I will hold on as long as I can. Alone or not at least at the end of the day I still have those things to comfort me at night.


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