Everything's a Cold War, Baby
Sept 15, 2014 16:00:44 GMT -8
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Post by Romio Julian Rosselini on Sept 15, 2014 16:00:44 GMT -8
Seattle, the State of Washington
America
Well, the last few years have been an absolute whirlwind, I must say. I marvel inwardly at the breakneck pace of change that this country, and indeed the world, goes through at the introduction of each new piece of technology, fashion or philosophy. One would suffer severe whiplash if one were to attempt to look back at the past, what what?
After the horrific events of WWII came to a close, what I had most feared and suggested would happen, stepped out of the realm of 'could-be' and became terrifying reality. The breakthroughs in science that allowed Hiroshima to cease to exist at the touch of a button became more widespread, and suddenly, it seemed that every major country had weapons such as the 'A' bomb at their fingertips. And it only got worse from there, as the technology became even more fearsome with the invention of the nuclear warhead. In the space of a handful of years, countries went from shaking their fists at each other to threatening outright planetary destruction. The Kindred, including my Ladyship, seemed to think that this all came about because they hadn't exercised enough scrutiny over the masses, but (and I would NEVER mention this, of course; my head likes to remain sitting atop my shoulders) the real reason this all came about is one that they would never ever be able to fix: it's human nature. And while they like to pretend they were not from the same stock, and many of them appear to have genuinely forgotten it altogether, the truth is that Humanity's penchant for causing more and more destruction is the very same thing that makes the Kindred so violent and 'bestial' at times. They simply do it with more fang.
The 50's were a time of constant turmoil, and the beginnings of what would become the 'peace movement' if I recall right. It was also during this time that the seeds for the Cold War were planted and blossomed, because America seems incapable of living in harmony with everyone and *Must* have an enemy to contend with. As we carried on towards the 60's, widespread demonstrations and marches were commonplace, and the slogan of "Peace not war" became quite popular (So did the penchant for calling other people "Baby", which brings me no end of teeth grinding).
I had my hands full keeping the Madame well stocked in suitable feeding arrangements, and keeping her boredom from becoming an uncontrollable monster. In my opinion, the Kindred often delve into cruelty and wanton debauchery when they become disillusioned or bored with their nightly existence. It was, and still is, my purpose to keep the Lady on as straight a path as I can manage; and when she falls off of it, I make extra prayers, and light extra candles, and hope that somehow when all the cards have been dealt, I'll have made enough of a difference.
I tell no one my fears, but the truth of it is, I have begun to quietly despair that my struggles will all be for naught.
The idea that I had first had just after the beginning of Prohibition caught like wildfire, and in the last two decades has become something of an institution; from what I understand, other organizations are trying to copy it, but without as much as success. Her Ladyship has been pleased with the influx of funds, and I'm making sorely needed improvements to the " ol' 'omestead" , as Private Garinge would have said. That is, of course, when Private Garinge still had a tongue and throat to be able to say such things. Last night I had another of my nightmares, and this one was particularly bad, so Private Garinge is still locked in the theater of my mind. After so many decades, his still being so vividly recalled to the forefront of my mind makes me wonder if I'll ever forget any of them. I can still taste his blood at the back of my throat, still smell the earth as it clogs up my nostrils. To say it is unpleasant would be to declare the Fires of Hades on one's testicles a 'little warm'. I can only be glad that my screams did not wake up her Ladyship.
Speaking of screams, there is a terrible new development in the music scene that has been known to bring a grown man crashing to his knees with sobs of agony (even if that grown man happens to be me). I believe they call this horrifying new instrument of torture, "Disco". To be sure, the sounds themselves would not be nearly so bad if it were not also the sights of supposedly responsible adults lounging about in clothes that homeless Roman-era clowns invented. A special Hell waits for the man that came up with the bell-bottomed trouser, I am certain.
Madame calls for me, so it is with small regret that I must bring this dialogue to an end.
America
Well, the last few years have been an absolute whirlwind, I must say. I marvel inwardly at the breakneck pace of change that this country, and indeed the world, goes through at the introduction of each new piece of technology, fashion or philosophy. One would suffer severe whiplash if one were to attempt to look back at the past, what what?
After the horrific events of WWII came to a close, what I had most feared and suggested would happen, stepped out of the realm of 'could-be' and became terrifying reality. The breakthroughs in science that allowed Hiroshima to cease to exist at the touch of a button became more widespread, and suddenly, it seemed that every major country had weapons such as the 'A' bomb at their fingertips. And it only got worse from there, as the technology became even more fearsome with the invention of the nuclear warhead. In the space of a handful of years, countries went from shaking their fists at each other to threatening outright planetary destruction. The Kindred, including my Ladyship, seemed to think that this all came about because they hadn't exercised enough scrutiny over the masses, but (and I would NEVER mention this, of course; my head likes to remain sitting atop my shoulders) the real reason this all came about is one that they would never ever be able to fix: it's human nature. And while they like to pretend they were not from the same stock, and many of them appear to have genuinely forgotten it altogether, the truth is that Humanity's penchant for causing more and more destruction is the very same thing that makes the Kindred so violent and 'bestial' at times. They simply do it with more fang.
The 50's were a time of constant turmoil, and the beginnings of what would become the 'peace movement' if I recall right. It was also during this time that the seeds for the Cold War were planted and blossomed, because America seems incapable of living in harmony with everyone and *Must* have an enemy to contend with. As we carried on towards the 60's, widespread demonstrations and marches were commonplace, and the slogan of "Peace not war" became quite popular (So did the penchant for calling other people "Baby", which brings me no end of teeth grinding).
I had my hands full keeping the Madame well stocked in suitable feeding arrangements, and keeping her boredom from becoming an uncontrollable monster. In my opinion, the Kindred often delve into cruelty and wanton debauchery when they become disillusioned or bored with their nightly existence. It was, and still is, my purpose to keep the Lady on as straight a path as I can manage; and when she falls off of it, I make extra prayers, and light extra candles, and hope that somehow when all the cards have been dealt, I'll have made enough of a difference.
I tell no one my fears, but the truth of it is, I have begun to quietly despair that my struggles will all be for naught.
The idea that I had first had just after the beginning of Prohibition caught like wildfire, and in the last two decades has become something of an institution; from what I understand, other organizations are trying to copy it, but without as much as success. Her Ladyship has been pleased with the influx of funds, and I'm making sorely needed improvements to the " ol' 'omestead" , as Private Garinge would have said. That is, of course, when Private Garinge still had a tongue and throat to be able to say such things. Last night I had another of my nightmares, and this one was particularly bad, so Private Garinge is still locked in the theater of my mind. After so many decades, his still being so vividly recalled to the forefront of my mind makes me wonder if I'll ever forget any of them. I can still taste his blood at the back of my throat, still smell the earth as it clogs up my nostrils. To say it is unpleasant would be to declare the Fires of Hades on one's testicles a 'little warm'. I can only be glad that my screams did not wake up her Ladyship.
Speaking of screams, there is a terrible new development in the music scene that has been known to bring a grown man crashing to his knees with sobs of agony (even if that grown man happens to be me). I believe they call this horrifying new instrument of torture, "Disco". To be sure, the sounds themselves would not be nearly so bad if it were not also the sights of supposedly responsible adults lounging about in clothes that homeless Roman-era clowns invented. A special Hell waits for the man that came up with the bell-bottomed trouser, I am certain.
Madame calls for me, so it is with small regret that I must bring this dialogue to an end.