Secular humanism. Atheism. Modernism, Moral relativism. All parts of liberalist ideology? We are all the same and there is no difference. Even a five year old could assert its a bald faced lie and the entire premise of multi-culturism and equality for all at as a foundational premise is a jobby and a tinkle for him. Its obvious to the child that some of his circle are brighter and more decent than others, and that some seem quite dark and others have equally marked physical appearances. Difference is identity. The ideology of socialism as religion is back in vogue again, though it never really died, was just dormant, stunned like the Monty Python dead parrot.Prophets of socialism have long asserted that by somehow nailing our consciousness to a mast on a ship, maybe of fools, falling off the end of the earth into the the unseen hereafter, we can collectively effect a materially beneficial nihilism, the necessary purification factor, a utopia waiting at the dawn of a new day where the dour and depressing side of socialism will explode into a messiah driven energy from the new redemption….
One of the most depressing Christmas themed songs ever has to be the 1913 Massacre.You can’t throw an old dog new sticks…
by Woody Guthrie
Take a trip with me in nineteen thirteen
To Calumet, Michigan in the copper country
I’ll take you to a place called Italian Hall
And the miners are having their big Christmas ball
I’ll take you in a door and up a high stairs
Singing and dancing is heard ev’rywhere
I’ll let you shake hands with the people you see
And watch the kids dance ’round the big Christmas tree.
There’s talking and laughing and songs in the air
And the spirit of Christmas is there ev’rywhere
Before you know it you’re friends with us all
And you’re dancing around and around in the hall…
…You ask about work and you ask about pay
They’ll tell you they make less than a dollar a day
Working their copper claims, risking their lives
So it’s fun to spend Christmas with children and wives.
A little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights
To play the piano so you gotta keep quiet
To hear all this fun; you would not realize
That the copper boss thug men are milling outside
The copper boss thugs stuck their heads in the door
One of them yelled and he screamed, “There’s a fire”
A lady she hollered, “There
Keep on with your party, there’s no such a thing.”
A few people rushed and there’s only a few
“It’s just the thugs and the scabs fooling you.”
A man grabbed his daughter and he carried her down
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out.
And then others followed, about a hundred or more
But most everybody remained on the floor
The gun thugs, they laughed at their murderous joke
And the children were smothered on the stairs by the door.
Such a terrible sight I never did see
We carried our children back up to their tree
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree
And the children that died there was seventy-three
The piano played a slow funeral tune,
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon
The parents, they cried and the men, they moaned,
“See what your greed for money has done?”
Oscar Wilde…There is also this to be said. It is immoral to use private property in order to alleviate the horrible evils that result from the institution of private property. It is both immoral and unfair.
Under Socialism all this will, of course, be altered. There will be no people living in fetid dens and fetid rags, and bringing up unhealthy, hunger-pinched children in the midst of impossible and absolutely repulsive surroundings. The security of society will not depend, as it does now, on the state of the weather. If a frost comes we shall not have a hundred thousand men out of work, tramping about the streets in a state of disgusting misery, or whining to their neighbours for alms, or crowding round the doors of loathsome shelters to try and secure a hunch of bread and a night’s unclean lodging. Each member of the society will share in the general prosperity and happiness of the society, and if a frost comes no one will practically be anything the worse….
… And when scientific men are no longer called upon to go down to a depressing East End and distribute bad cocoa and worse blankets to starving people, they will have delightful leisure in which to devise wonderful and marvellous things for their own joy and the joy of everyone else. There will be great storages of force for every city, and for every house if required, and this force man will convert into heat, light, or motion, according to his needs. Is this Utopian? A map of the world that does not include Utopia is not worth even glancing at, for it leaves out the one country at which Humanity is always landing. And when Humanity lands there, it looks out, and, seeing a better country, sets sail. Progress is the realisation of Utopias….
… In fact, property is really a nuisance. Some years ago people went about the country saying that property has duties. They said it so often and so tediously that, at last, the Church has begun to say it. One hears it now from every pulpit. It is perfectly true. Property not merely has duties, but has so many duties that its possession to any large extent is a bore. It involves endless claims upon one, endless attention to business, endless bother. If property had simply pleasures, we could stand it; but its duties make it unbearable. In the interest of the rich we must get rid of it. The virtues of the poor may be readily admitted, and are much to be regretted. We are often told that the poor are grateful for charity. Some of them are, no doubt, but the best amongst the poor are never grateful. They are ungrateful, discontented, disobedient, and rebellious. They are quite right to be so. Charity they feel to be a ridiculously inadequate mode of partial restitution, or a sentimental dole, usually accompanied by some impertinent attempt on the part of the sentimentalist to tyrannise over their private lives. Why should they be grateful for the crumbs that fall from the rich man’s table?…Read More:http://www.marxists.org/reference/archive/wilde-oscar/soul-man/index.htm