Everything you knew is gone
Published by marco on
Imagine if that were your neighborhood.
Imagine if those were you and your neighbors, herded into the streets, made to stand in the sun with all of your worldly belongings in a torn bag, held in one hand, while, in the other, you brandish an ID issued by your oppressor, because the oppressor demands it.
You stand for hours.
Can you imagine it?
Of course not. Because things like that don’t happen to good people.
It only happens to those who deserve it, who aren’t even really people, when you think about it. They’re terrorists. Vermin. Better dead than alive.
It’s only the namby-pamby guilt-mongers whose opinions the oppressor is somehow and somewhat still beholden to that have this utopian notion that all people are equal and that everything that looks like a human actually is a human.
How naive.
The oppressor knows better.
It knows that some pigs are better than others. When the bad pigs get too shirty about their lot—when they start to talk about fairness and justice—then they just have to be put down even harder, to lessen the danger for the good pigs, to keep the good pigs happy, so that they don’t have to hear distracting things.
Any good pig will still be able to sleep at night. Easily and deeply.