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|One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star. -Nietzsche|
March 26, 2017
Law is Just a Myth
Night invites anarchy. Under the cloak of darkness, man's law crumbles to entrepreneurial aggression and becomes an unenforceable agreement. The public that observes by the day becomes exhausted and retreats at night, seeking relief with intoxicants and television, knowing a crude underbelly of predation emerges, but not wanting the responsibility of acknowledging it.
Spring had arrived and my vintage convertible that sat all winter in the garage had a strong battery but the alternator was shot. Attempting to drive it to my trusty mechanic so he could work on it the next day was a sketchy late night proposition worth attempting. Halfway there, the electrical system coughed death, alternatively going lifelessly black and flashing all system lights like a casino jackpot payout. As the fuel pump gave up and the engine sputtered to sleep, the car came to a rest on the side of a nice suburban road. From here, the seven mile walk home in the serene night should have been easy and fun.
This seemed a safe enough area. Thirty years ago it was farmland. Fifteen years ago it held modest wealth and was considered a good choice to get a home with several acres. Density increased and parcels were divided further. Even today, the gas pumps don't make you enter your zip code. Gradually, migrants started moving in from the edges. A dozen laborers paying $250/mo covers the rent on a $500,000 home.
By 11pm, most houses had gone dark. A few still had glowing screens or home office lights. For many, cubicle work would start early tomorrow.
I found my way to a nicely paved pedestrian path and for over a mile there was no one: no late night dog walkers, joggers, or bicyclists. At the top of the next hill, a gray figure approached and then stopped and moved off the path to hide in the trees. This strange lingering was enough to dissuade me off the path. Just as I left the path to enter a well lit neighborhood, two youthful migrants had just left their car parked on a dead end road, hastily heading towards the path.
I looked my eager attackers in the face and took in their frustrated realization that they had again been too slow to action and their means of income was once again being oppressed. They're always cowards in the light.
Perhaps they were just heading towards a late night drug deal or hot sexual rendezvous, but more likely the first migrant had called two friends to join him in a spontaneous business opportunity.
Cell phones were once the providence of lawyers and businessmen to communicate urgent information. Now third-world populations use technology to discuss third-world ideas such as crime schemes. Advanced nations would do well to not export technology to populations without legitimate need for it, as those populations will only misuse to further denature their society, as well as any first-world society they are living among.
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