We are at one of those crossroads in history. Ernest Hemingway and the ex patriots in France whiffed it after the carnage of World War I. The world would never be the same. Modernism arrived with tanks and the awful mass death of the trenches. The mechanized world demanded a new way of interpreting the world and the artists responded in kind. The old Victorian world was dead and in a way literary poetry and ethereal language died under the hard bitten prose of Hemingway. The world was dry and hard and remained so right up to World War II.
And we emerged victorious and frightened because nuclear arms might obliterate the planet. We lived under that shadow a long time. And then it seemed to lessen and the world seemed to put it all behind us. But we now have this. The world has changed again. People are being marginalized by technology. The Internet has literally squeezed the profit out of everything and so nobody can afford to carry anyone. The old world of the blue collar job has gone to India and robots have sopped up the rest. Our first African American president gave us a ray of hope and then collapsed under the forces that will not rest.
And now we must vote like our lives depend on it. The very dark clouds hiding under uber nationalism are the same ones that gathered in 1939 and plunged the world into darkness. The same pointed fingers that exterminated six million people are now fingering others as the root of our problems. It is a canard but it doesn't matter. People need someone to blame and there are always others willing to show us who. So vote like your life depends on it.
It might.
Madam President The Secret Presidency of Edith Wilson
And we emerged victorious and frightened because nuclear arms might obliterate the planet. We lived under that shadow a long time. And then it seemed to lessen and the world seemed to put it all behind us. But we now have this. The world has changed again. People are being marginalized by technology. The Internet has literally squeezed the profit out of everything and so nobody can afford to carry anyone. The old world of the blue collar job has gone to India and robots have sopped up the rest. Our first African American president gave us a ray of hope and then collapsed under the forces that will not rest.
And now we must vote like our lives depend on it. The very dark clouds hiding under uber nationalism are the same ones that gathered in 1939 and plunged the world into darkness. The same pointed fingers that exterminated six million people are now fingering others as the root of our problems. It is a canard but it doesn't matter. People need someone to blame and there are always others willing to show us who. So vote like your life depends on it.
It might.
Madam President The Secret Presidency of Edith Wilson
