The simple fact that neo-liberalism, corporatism (Fascism), the deceitful worship of false gods, is that the false god Profit requires less workers, paying them less, and more policemen to keep these hungry workers in their place. Slavery, whether one wants to call it wage slavery or just a necessity of corporate progress matters not. It is waste. And any assignment of morality to this system, whether by a king or by those endlessly inserted middlemen, is a corruption of morality, regardless of its base.

‘Capitalist society faces a dilemma, either an advance to socialism, or a reversion to barbarism.’ – Friedrich Engels.

Profit, which we’re assured by king’s is judged by how much rubbish one can hoard and keep out of the hands of others, is false. What morality may be judged by profit? The profit of life. Not just exclusive life but the life of all men (and what man’s or woman’s life can be lived independent of our finite planet); inclusive, and not dependent, on which side of life the coin of lot has fallen.

Again, I’ve been slapped by the king’s almighty dollar, and today’s dollar value is a lamb. This lamb is food despite its woolly cuteness. This lamb is luxury. It costs to eat the grass that nature supplies. It costs to round it up. It costs to transport it to a market and it costs to slaughter. It costs to package it, to transport to a place where it may be traded for an additional piece of gold, but this lamb is food. But not food for those who haven’t that piece of gold. Those, without the gold to trade may eat cake. Could we not trade this food for a simple bullet?

Of course, this is an offensive way to view our world. It takes no account of the way the coin of lot has fallen. This lamb would not have lived were it not for the accumulation of the hoarded past. Without the cabinets full of gold we would have no food to eat. Without the hoard of the generous past we would not have food to feed our children, and therefore, we would have no future.

One has no future without the steady the accumulation of those for whom the coin fell correctly in the past. Without the accumulators of profit, life just could not be. Now this is a dream; a dream to raise one’s children on.

This is the dream for which our king’s will fight. But this dream, which is as old as the hills, has an inherent fault in it. Because, for a dream so old, so wise, so beneficial to mankind, that noble kings will fight so relentlessly against each generation of slaves to make real … Well, that dream must be inherently faulty. Perhaps it is not as wise and beneficial as our kings maintain? Or, perhaps its because those that the dream relies on to sate the gods of profit, just will not buckle down and succumb to the obvious profit of the dream?

Today I received an email from one of profit’s slaves telling me that her and her children have so enjoyed the king’s beneficence even though locked out of the process of life’s determination. She says she’s been able to afford luxuries, such as shampoo and conditioner and a shop bought square meal, each week for her and her little lambs and that she’d gladly trade her freedoms and her soul, and, she says, those of her children, just so she could keep these little luxuries which make her children smile and laugh … Just like the children in the king’s dream. She says she understands that for the rest of the world, for the future, she will have to forego participation in the dream very soon, but, she asks, can my children still be included in the dream? She doesn’t ask for her inclusion, only her little girls – she’s prepared to forgo inclusion, but please, she says, my children surely have not been a party to my sins. They are not old enough. ‘If I lost them on the street they could easily be mistaken for the children of kings.’

Darlin’, those children of yours are marked. The’ll be no mistaking them for the children of kings. Where would the profit be in that? Those children of yours have landed face down in the lots. They’re workers. And the king’s futures already have far too many workers. But they must pay their way. They must consume so that others may hoard. Not lamb, that’s a luxury bestowed by nature on those face up in the mire. Lot, and lots of profit will drive the Lucky Country into the king’s foreseeable future. Your children must consume. Not lamb! – but perhaps the cake that dangles freely on the endless stick.

‘Everyone must take action, everyone understands that its a social crime not to act in times as grave as these, when evil forces of the past battle against the energies of tomorrow. Its necessary to decide if humanity is not going to take one step backwards, not going to fall once again into error, into slavery, perhaps for another century.’ – Emile Zola, ‘J’accuse!’.

Again of course, not a fair way to view the king’s world. We cannot all eat lamb, and bomb the bejeezus out of Chinese warships out in the open oceans. Someone must make sacrifices.

We must consume because that is what grows economies. It matters not that what we consume is utter junk produced in far off countries, because the middlemen are our middlemen. It matters not that for the benefit of the king’s economy we must encourage far off countries to poison their air, and their water, with the raw materials we sell them because its consumption that is progress. We must not permit morality to taint the compass that points so inevitably, so relentlessly, toward a grand future for the Lucky Country. And, we must be ready to defend this lucky way of life so that our children have a great and a happy future.

Be assured, says the king, that 270 billion of his money is a small price to pay for such a miraculous future. It will happen – he assures us. But those of us who have drawn the shorter straws must do our bit. We must consume – we cannot just leave it to the corporations. Poverty, starvation, curtailment of education is a small price to pay for a future. Each and every lot is necessary; those who may consume lamb just as much as those for whom the promise of cake can be a tangible dream. We’re in it together, says the king. We must play out parts. Freedoms will come, they will dribble from the armpits of hard working king’s … Of that we may be assured.

‘So,’ he said, another of the kings resigned men, ‘we will do our part. Lay back and think of Oz. Its our lot.’
The reporter from the ABC said, ‘And that’s it? That’s all we can do?’
‘No,’ answered the resigned man, ‘there are a couple more things we can do. We can pray. And we can buy Australian.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, ‘consume like devils.’