William Mark Simmons Undead 2 Dead on My Feet

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lot sooner than that. Deficit spending and the war on terrorism have drained
the entitlements programs ahead of schedule, and
Congress can't keep the lid on our pending bankruptcy much longer. When the
government checks start bouncing there will be panic, economic collapse,
anarchy. What would you do? Sit back and let it happen?"
I still didn't know if this guy was legitimate brass or bogus militia, but his
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numbers were the real deal.
Once upon a time back in the 1930s to be more precise, less than half of the
general population was expected to live past the age of sixty-five. It took
sixteen people paying into the Social Security trust fund to pay for one
retiree and, given early twentieth-century life expectancy, the ratios worked.
Fast-forward to the close of same century and changes in medicine and
economics had changed the math radically.
Eighty-six percent of the population was living past retirement age and only
four people of working age were available to support each retiree.
Now, in the twenty-first century, the baby-boom generation had begun lining up
for their retirement benefits and Gen X lacked the population base to fund the
growing tidal wave of Social Security claims.
On top of that, the cost of Medicare was doubling every ten years and claims
to other entitlements were expanding exponentially. The mathematical fix was
savagely simple: As long as a worker produces, he or
she has value to the system. Once they retire, they not only lose their
desirability as producers, they become economic liabilities. The Greyware
Project was the simple, direct solution, a biotechnical assist to the
Darwinian laws of economic entropy.
There was just one problem with his logic that is, assuming you didn't find
the willful murder of human beings for economic stability to be morally
repugnant. The general's equation measured only economic contributions and
those within the corporate payroll template. It assumed that "productivity"
ended on a certain schedule. It didn't account for the necessities of parents
and grandparents and great-grandparents: the guidance and stability they
provided for the base unit structures of society children, grandchildren, and
great-grandchildren. Families. Neighborhoods. Communities. And this narrow
economic definition failed to consider that some cultural contributions aren't
possible until enough years and experiences are stacked up in a lifetime to
begin great works rather than close out the books on them.
Would the Greyware Virus care that Voltaire was 64 when he penned
Candide
? What about other literary works, like
Zorba the Greek, written when Nikos Kazantzakis was 66;
The Trumpet of the
Swan by E.B. White at the age of 70; or
The Fountain of Age by Betty Friedan, 72? Would the Social
Security Solution take into account the fact that actor Tony Randall was the
same age when he founded the National Actors Theatre or that Jessica Tandy won
Best Actress Oscar for
Driving Miss Daisy at the age of 80? How about Tony Bennet's singing career
enjoying a renaissance in his 70s or Grandma
Moses starting a serious painting career at the age of 78? Jazz violinist
Stephane Grappelli and classical guitarist Andres Segovia touring to worldwide
acclaim when they were in their 80s?
Never mind the moral repugnance of the Greyware solution for every
Alzheimer-tranced oldster drooling in a private ward in some
entitlement-funded facility, there were hundreds of vibrant elders making
their greatest contributions yet to the quality of communal life for society
as a whole.
But how do you get these points across to the "Bottom Line" Institution?
They've already reduced people to commodities long before they reach a certain
age. Use 'em up, throw 'em out. They've served their purpose; never mind that
the money they're entitled to is the money they've paid into the system over
their lifetimes. Once the cow stops giving milk, it's time to make hamburgers.
The general nodded as if my silence indicated consent. "We are talking about
the survival of the greatest country on the face of the earth."
"If we're reduced to this then maybe we're not so great as we think we are."
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"There are historical and societal precedents," the general argued. "The
American Indians "
"You're going to cite me the example of what some of the nomadic, Plains
tribes did when their elderly were too frail and ill to be cared for anymore.
This is not the same thing. We're not talking about abandoning the elderly and
infirm to live or die on their own: We already do that. We're talking about
wholesale generational murder! So don't bring up the Hemlock Society or
obsolete cultural groups like the Spartans. The only comparable cultural
analogy is Hitler's Final Solution."
"This is nothing like that!" he roared.
"Yeah? The only noticeable differences I've picked up on so far is that you
now have the technology to bring the Zyklon-B to the victims rather than the
other way around. And no one's mentioned making soap or lampshades out of the
elderly." I eyeballed him. "Have they?"
His face was red, now. "We are talking about survival, here!"
Or as a certain contestant on the Vietnamese game show
What's My Lai once said: "We had to destroy the village to save it."
"Okay, I get the new Medikill program for the elderly," I replied, "but what's
the deal with Operation
Blackout? Isn't killing off a significant portion of the population
sufficient? Or is it that bureaucratic attitude of a few million deaths here,
a few million there pretty soon we're talking genuine fatality rates?"
I don't know what I expected to come out of his mouth. That Blacks were a
"mongrel" race as so many White supremacists were overly fond of saying? Well,
that's sort of what it was, only dandified and dressed up as the second round
of Useless People Economics 101. The general had more numbers ready and
started off with the dramatic racial shifts in prison populations, statistics
on crime and recidivism, poverty levels, school drop-out rates, joblessness,
drug use, and before I knew it we were back to the Greyware issues of welfare
and entitlements.
I tuned him out.
There was no point in even attempting a debate, internally or externally. The
man was locked into his worldview and a cozy little conversation with moi
wasn't going to change his accounting system or the way he crunched his
numbers. I was better off nodding and agreeing and acting like a True Believer
until
I could get everybody to look the other way.
But then what?
Even without a roomful of Marine-wannabes there didn't seem be much that I
could do about what I
had learned. I felt like Mary Philbin unmasking Lon Chaney, pulling back the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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