The term, anarchist, always scared me to death. In junior high school history classes and in Three Stooges shorts anarchists were always white guys with long beards who spent all their time blowin' up things with bombs that they carried in their hands. When they weren't out assassinating world leaders to begin world wars, that is.
Now I was raised to do right. I haven't always done right but that's another story, another day's blog. I know right from wrong.
From this day forward you tell them that old George Ronald Elliott is an anarchist. I will no longer pay any attention to self-important, bought-off criminaloids in Washington, D.C. or mean-spirited, ignorant, conceited hillbillies in Tallahassee. Nobody is going to twist the beautiful words of good guys like Jesus and Buddha to convince me that some living creatures are more worthy than others.
Oh, you don't have to worry. I'm not gonna drink and drive. I'll drive on the right side of the road and I'll pay what little taxes that I owe. I'm not planning to be a bad citizen. I'm planning to be a better person. The concept of heaven is to keep me and you in line. So is the idea of money. Patriotism.
Love. Compassion. Empathy. Now, those are real ideas. I would tear up my voter's registration card and apply for a new one but I'm pretty sure that we don't register.
Give us peace on earth and end this dreadful, dreadful war.
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