Obsession is defined as the domination of one’s thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image or desire. This and the individuals spiderwebbed by them are curious things. Some people craft big plans and succeed enormously. Others ignominiously crash and burn. The biggest perversion is the actions of individuals who fail miserbly but unfortunately submerge so many others with them, amidst excessive pools of sewage and subterfuge.
Place George Bush in the latter category.
Yes, desperate men often do desperate things. But the best and bravest of the foolhardy singularly bear the brunt of the follies. They don’t meander in a safety zone while assigning others to do the dirty work and suffer the harshest of the consequences.
The next time anyone proffers the message that he is The Chosen One, called forth on a certain mission by some form of deity to lead others to the light and glory, put this to the individual: “I received the exact same calling but previous to yours. The role is mine unless the deity is wrong and therefore imperfect.”
It’s reminiscent of the alcoholic/drug or any other addict, still immersed fully in the disease, who suddenly sees his or her true and only calling as saving and leading similarly afflicted others. Absolutely nothing can persuade such individuals that anything else is worth pursuing because the truth, the truth in their possession, must be dispensed and they are the annointed one to do so.
It’s in the category of futility, that being preaching to the un-choir so don’t bother the obsessed with the following. Instead, heed this yourself:
“…The Sergeant said, “Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim.”
“Sergeant, don’t be a Nervous Nellie,”
The Captain said to him.
“All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I’ll lead on.”
We were — neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.
All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain’s helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, “Turn around men!
I’m in charge from now on.”
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone…
…Well, I’m not going to point any moral;
I’ll leave that for yourself
Maybe you’re still walking, you’re still talking
You’d like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We’re — waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on…”
“Waist Deep In The Big Muddy” — Pete Seeger
