Midnight Pub

Home, hearth, and family are key.


A Highball, ~bartender. Might as well.

My ancestors fought in every war my country ever threw at them. Most of them weren't forced, they chose to join up. What the hell were they thinking? Join up, ship out, slave and bleed and die. Get home to everything lost, home family and land, in some cases. A hero's welcome in others. I know a few that got onto the field of battle and left; hiked out of there and never came back. Never got caught either. I guess that doesn't happen much now, the not getting caught.

Have you heard the song Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree? Do you remember the world when that song came along? I cry when I hear it. It's supposed to be about prison, but it's also about war. And all kinds of other painful places we go, too. What's the difference? And what do we get when we come home?

But I don't want to talk about soldiers. Not really. I've known too many, and they're so good even when they're rough and broken. The kind of people you wish could run the world. The kind you wish you could grab onto and never let go--some author said that, but not about soldiers. They're not all good, but I don't meet the bad ones. Maybe God knows not to put them near me, or maybe they don't actually exist.

This particular drink I want to talk about the causes that soldiers serve, the causes they think they serve. I won't blame them for the fact that they're so often slaves to ideals that don't exist any more. Freedom, peace, justice. Home and hearth and family, and a better world for their children. You recall that age-old ever-continuing war between Christian and Muslim? They have a lot of the same ideals, only they don't see it that way. And now they're both neanderthals in the eyes the Humanists. Evolutionary relics. Silly.

The Humanists might end up fighting the Christians and Muslims together, I suppose. Maybe not. Maybe they'll just convert them through apathy and tolerance and babbling redefinition of words that matter. Define freedom, peace, justice, home, hearth, and family, if you can. Are they the same as what our ancestors fought over? What does a better world look like? Who decides?

All these causes and their definitions are societal, and that's the problem. When society thinks straight, things go pretty well. We've had some good times, you must allow. But there have been times when society gets a few Boilermakers in their collective bellies and all hell breaks loose. The old Christian hell, I mean. Always someone comes along with their own definitions, convinces their inebriated fellows that they are right, and we march willingly to hell killing our brothers and sisters along the way. Religionists pick up the pieces afterward and plod along as if nothing happened.

The Humanists could think straight, I'm convinced. But they don't. They're so caught up in not being religious that they twist themselves into logical pretzels and call it sense. They can't agree with religion, even when and where religion is right. The foundation must not be faith! As if they themselves act otherwise. Liars, just like so many of the religionists. And society is getting more Humanist. But that's for another round of drinks, another day.

It's those causes. What they mean to me is not what they mean to you. And society demands that we all agree so that we can tie-off our collective fates in one big line of bodies, and careen over whatever new cliff the majority has chosen. So many of the folks that I'm tied to seem to have no notion that we're headed for a cliff. When I try to say something, they beat me down. Even the formal logic that the Humanists claim to love (and which they refuse to teach in schools because in reality they fear it, the bastards) falls on deaf ears. And it's not appeals to antiquity that I use with them.

My drink is gone, and I can't even recall if I got to the point. Oh yeah, causes. Do you have any? I hope they have some substance. Do you want me to have the same ones? We have to, if we're to live in the same society together. They've got this new thing, a global citizenry, a world order, a unity of nations. Bah. It'll never work, because you can't even get one nation to agree with itself. But some Humanists really want to force the plebes to be a part of it, obedient soldiers in a global army of Humanist utopia-seekers. Plenty are signing up willingly, but I'm not buying it.


"My" sense is that individuality is a madness that can go lots of ways. ;-)



I once had big ideals. Save the world. Save my country. Save my town. Save my neighbours. Save myself. The "from what?" changed each year like the seasons of the media's panic.

In time these goals became exhausted and deflated, chewed apart by problems much larger than I could handle, as if I were trying to grapple the world.

Now my only ideals are tending a garden to restock the ladybirds, butterflies, ants, moths and spiders in my dry husk of a neighbourhood, of a district, of a city, of a country, of a planet filled with manicured astroturf, toxins, and dry, gravelly gardens.

In time my works will be wiped from history, but maybe, somewhere, will stand among a lifeless wreck of aphids, a red ladybird beetle that was born from the generations of my garden, and it will say "look on my wings, ye Mighty, and despair".

~bartender, a drink for my friend here to elucidate on the Humanist conversion of the world.