Everybody wants to be more than just a material existence and this strikes even the rich & the famous; this is why it is important to not be blinded by the talk & the bling of these vapid fleshdunces who live to appear on the silver screen and then the next day on the talk shows and tabloids as world saviors.
What is most important to pay attention to when these morons come out is the way that they flaunt their do-gooding. Folks like Madonna & Angelina take pride in adopting babies from third world nations and pick them out like normal people select puppies, then parade them before the paparazzi in a state of ecstatic rejoicing. How great is Caesar! They have, after all, swept down from their pleasure palaces wearing safari hats to the mud hut third world shit holes and liberated some poor creature from such a fate:
They become honorary citizens of Cambodia and UN ambassadors between major film productions; they show their asses in major Hollywood movies because they just can’t help but seek the attention of the masses, even the pimpled teens who will abuse themselves in the wee hours of the night to the mentally saved image.
They are quick to criticize any institution and stand up for peace, equality and a thousand other Holy Cows worshiped as idols by idiots of similar low IQs.
More than anything: they need you to buy the magazines for the stories of their greatness. For the story of them being more than flesh. Their whole career has been built on mimicry, on acting out the roles of fictional entities concocted and funded by producers, cleverly written and filled in by a few talented hacks, all thrown together for the sole purpose getting your money and shaping your worldview. This whole process is so disgusting, even to those involved, it creates an existential crisis…
What to do when you have a million screaming fans because you are the flesh embodiment of a superficial hero? What to do as tomb raider come to life, as the embodiment of a superhero, as the historic figure? They transcend life on the screen and they gain the empty admiration of idiots, and now they must try to transcend life again in hopes that some meaning can be ascribed to their empty existence.
And here is where comes the Little Caesar.
They are the all powerful. They are the political entities that determine the quality of our lives. They give us our bread and circuses. They give us even our health and our education. They give us security. And they may taketh away just as they give, for they are Caesar, great & proud.
We bow before them now a little bit differently: not only are they the famous, the rich, but they are also the powerful and the benevolent. Without their near divine grace and goodwill, where would we be?
Millions laugh at the image of the country preacher, bucktoothed and in an outdated suit, figuratively soiled, raising the alarm that Hollywood is Babylon, and that we are building ourselves a new Great Whore in America. Nobody wants to hear a moral lesson curbing our enthusiasm for consumerism, cautioning us against the idolization of mammon.
And less than that do we want to be subjected to the foreign devils who we are told are abusers of children, abusers of women; murderers, wipe their ass with their hands, and eat with the same hands. We don’t want to ever live as a judgmental person who gleans their truth in the quiet hours at dawn, praying towards Mecca; we don’t want to ever listen to the man who would fight the world with a rusted AK-47. We want nothing to do with those who fill their lives with a hundred rules governing their behavior strictly.
God-worshipers, bent down before Him, , allahu akbar x34, alhomdaelillah x33, subhanallah x33; ending with one La Illaha ill allah, adding up to the sacred number of 101.
No, we are not interested in a moral judgment. We are not interested in improving ourselves and making an inward change that translates to outward action, that becomes a worldview of true non-consumerism, of small living; We are interested only in the naked ass of Angelina Jolie, and in the breasts of Madonna (not to be confused with the Mother of Christ, whom we disregard). We are not interested in liberation from our materialistic worldview, and we are not interested in overcoming our addiction to the consumer products that are the hallmark of the massive divide between rich and poor, the divide between us First Worlders and the unadopted children of Angelina Jolie…
We want the film Gandhi; we don’t want the Gandhi Gandhi. We want the areligious, abbreviated and symbolic Jesus; we don’t want the Jesus Jesus. We want the Secular Morality, the arms-length distance between each other, the consenting adults clause, the really easy money and cheap products put together in third world shit holes; the last thing everyone needs is some real hard fucking morality that challenges a person to abandon the greater portion of their life.
We choose Little Caesar, we don’t choose Christ; we choose the Bollywood Moghuls, not Gandhi; we want the Buddha made of Gold and not the Buddha made of clay.
… But, if for one minute, Indiana Jones selects Jesus Christ the Carpenter’s cup in a film…
We will follow that heroic gesture and for a moment consider its significance.
The hand of Little Caesar gives us bread & circuses, and as they symbolically play out our greatest dreams on the screen, so too do they fulfill all of our political ambitions.
I ask you:
What Does Little Caesar Think? I want to think the same. I want to know the worldview of the Angelina, of the Sean Penn, of the Russell Brand; surely, if someone famous and important as them, who entertains me between the wretched hours I go to work, there must be total truth.
We’ve become a society of idol worshipers. The funny thing is: the idols come back to us, in their interviews, and they want us to approve of them as people. They pose for us even when the initial posing is done, until their behavior on & off the screen is all an ancient act began by the Pharoahs who presided over great ceremonies to symbolically reassure the people that goodness will prevail.
The sad thing is that we’ve bought this same bullshit for six thousand years and we will buy it for six thousand more.
I said it once, and I will say it again: if the unadopted children of Angelina, armed to the tooth & festooned in the Jihadi robes & Khmer Rouge pajamas, were to show up in Beverly Hills and humble every one of these Little Caesars, that would a very merry Christmas make.