Thursday, 17 March 2016

The horror of the mirror.




"Willie Stark: This much I swear to you. These things you shall have: I'm going to build a hospital. The biggest that money can buy. And it will belong to you. That any man, woman, and child who is sick or in pain can go through those doors and know that everything will be done for them that man can do to heal sickness, to ease pain. Free. Not as a charity. But as a right. And it is your right. Do you hear me? It is your right. And it is your right that every child should have a complete education. That any man who produce us anything can take it to market without paying toll. And no poor man's land or farm can be taxed or taken away from him. And it is the right of the people that they shall not be deprived of hope.
Anne Stanton: Does he mean it, Jack?
Adam Stanton: That's his bribe."
Like everyone else I've been poli-gawping with the U.S. primaries and like everyone else I've been scratching my head about the rise of Trump. I suspect that unlike many, though, I've been scratching my head since the days of Reagan. There must be something to this whole head-scratching thing though because I still have a full mop of hair. Brain cells, on the other hand...
"All the King's Men" from 1949 charts the slow and brutal rise of a dirt-poor idealist through his brief but brutal administration to his equally brutal demise. It's based loosely on the real life of Huey P. Long and that's as far as I could be arsed reading up on it in Wikipedia. And just like the current primaries, it has some Oscar winning performances and some utterly cringeworthy ones but the timeless narrative and tracts of dialogue remain fascinating.
The upshot being that very little has changed since the days (Four score and seven years ago, anyone?) when Lincoln was out stumping in the state of Illinois or Long canvassing for the state of Louisiana. The people of America so early on became intoxicated, enamoured with the whole panem et circenses routine that it's in the marrow now, together with the lead and blood of the innocents. To a certain extent, just as it is here in Oz with our ongoing whispers of, "It can't happen here." But worry not, that scream you hear is only me plummeting from my high and ever-skittish horse.
Plus ça change. Plus ça change...

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