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‘All you need is love’ might not be enough

It was the late ’60s, and I was beginning to try my wings. There was magic in the air, and that magic often overshadowed the monotonous litany of war, pestilence, hunger and sorrow that affected our little globe.

There was a refrain in the air: “All You Need Is Love.” That sentiment, along with similar lyrical hopes and prayers, resounded across the airwaves into the hearts and minds of a generation now silver-backed by the passage of decades. I fervently believed, along with so many of my confederates, that “all you need is love.” That philosophy was and still is central to our own loosely-bonded tribalism.

But therein lies the rub – because it is tribalism that creates conflict. Us vs. Them. My tribe is badder than your tribe. My gawd is gonna kick your gawd’s backside across the panoply. Your gang has a bunch of guns, but my gang’s guns are bigger and prettier. The nitwit politician that I bought and paid for is more robust than the nitwit politician you bought and paid for. Our physiological apparatus is more profound than your physiological apparatus. We’re very important. You must be marginalized. Our ignorance is much less all-encompassing than yours. Incidentally, my business is my own, but since I have a fundamental superiority, I’m going to need to make your private business mine, too. It’s one of those things that you couldn’t possibly understand because you’re stoo-pud.

Basically, it all boils down to one, um, collection of things: All you need is love, and unassailable blind obedience to that particular Great Big Invisible Being that hovers directly over your house, and the correct type of primary sexual characteristic, and some pretty guns, and a politician in your pocket (any politician!), and whatever means necessary to get a bunch of money, and your homeys behind you.

Just keep an eye on what’s going on in public restrooms, and everything will be safe. That’s it! You win! Everybody in this world is crazy except for you and me. And sometimes I’m just not so sure about you ....

Davitt M. Armstrong

Durango



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