Hope and Hubris are not the Same

Hubris and Hope

She is proud to call herself a Social Justice Warrior.
It is a role she’s been trained for from birth,
and she is confident in her abilities.
She will right wrongs,
eradicate poverty,
close the gender wage gap,
end war,
Using her words,
her wit,
her tenacity,
(resorting to bullying only when necessary,
and it is necessary more often than one would think),
she will bring down those
who mock,
and fail to feel guilt for the sins of the fathers.

She was born
(not all that long ago)
to change the world.
She’ll let nothing stop her,
not even God.
Especially God.
Oh, she believes in Him.
Why, she loves Him dearly,
but she must pick up
where Jesus left off.
Finish the job.
He did good things,
but really, why didn’t he do more?
And people today are so dense.
Couldn’t Jesus have been more specific?

Yes, today is a new day,
Sunday, in fact.
It’s time to lace-up, log on,
carry her sign, voice her opinion,
and make a difference.
Nothing will stand in her way,
not even the guy next door
—what is his name?—
sitting in the hallway
with a razor blade in his hand.



Perpetual Motion Machine

Frenetic Perpetual Motion

Well, here we are again.
Another tragedy has set
the same,
in motion.
Soon enough,
it will spin on its own;
the secret of perpetual motion
will be unlocked.
There will be no
or even slowing.
Candles are lit,
names are called,
insults are flung,
pat answers are
given by those
who have never
given any thought
to the questions—
the real questions,
not the ones on
everyone’s lips.
These are the folks
who believe what they read
but read only
what the powers-that-be
deem acceptable.
These are the folks
who long ago
willingly gave up
the freedom to
think for themselves,
submitting to the
of the schools,
the internet,
the Hollywood elite,
the big businesses in bed
with government geishas—
and they’re just as likely to
be sleeping on the left side of the bed
as they are on the right.
Maybe even more so.
(It’s easy to hide your infidelities
when the rest of the country is
helping you do it.)
But I digress.
The point is that
you can save yourself
the trouble of posting
your More Love; Less Hate
messages. Your Facebook
friends are not responsible
for the deaths of all those people.
Your Facebook friends
are not contemplating
mass murder.
I know.
I might be wrong.
I have been before.
For grins and giggles,
let’s say that I am.
Let’s pretend that
Ashley from the nail salon
has had enough.
She has stockpiled
her guns,
she has drawn her maps,
she has studied the
demographics and
shopping trends.
She’s ready to go out with a bang,
but before she does so,
she needs to check Facebook.
(Doesn’t everybody?)
Now ask yourself:
What happens when Ashley
sees the latest example of
your virtue signaling?
If, for even a moment,
you entertain the idea
that Ashley will
put down her weapons
and change her plans,
it might be time for you
to put down your iPhone,
tell your kids that you love them,
and crack open a book:
preferably one published
before last week.