We live in a world, in which the rules have shifted 180-degrees from our birth. Anyone older than 30 can now remember a time when what is now regarded as good, was evil, and the reverse as well. Indeed, in a single four-year span, much of what was right is now wrong.

This is either an instinctive systemic measure to addle the minds and induce hysteria among its subjects, or, it is part of a gas-lighting campaign to install a new ethos among the mob and demoralize those few who stand apart from the mob.

As this person has been fortunate to have failed in so many ways that the aggregate of bad outcomes resulted in an odd blessing of sorts; casting me outside of society to a vantage unique among my divorced fellows and granting some perspectives helpful to these less-atomized and not yet ostracized souls, an idea occurs: as the tide of events comes crashing towards us, stranded as we are on the shores of a perilous island, perhaps we should abandon our debate over who redesigns our new sandcastle and grab some drift wood.

Failing that, perhaps we abandon the beach and learn how to navigate the hazards of the jungles, perhaps even find a fresh water spring, a high cool place.

Perhaps someone else was marooned here before, and we will find a message from the past that speaks to our hostile present?

Perhaps strike out on your own, keeping your own counsel. Any course seems more meaningful than continuing the argument over who is in authority and how best to eliminate all challenges to ease and plenty, that has occupied and obsessed the inmates of Modernity for its entire reign of sloth. The United States for instance, as a civic body, has devoted over 200 years to an endless argument over how best to achieve sloth, to achieve a world where all of us our fat, and lazy, pampered and somehow not going crazy.

But, I would suggest, that among the castaways on this gaslit strand, that one private pact could be made, one friend found, one fellow-traveler engaged to struggle on against the many hazards on the way.

The only things that this life has definitively taught this castaway is that where easy living is the rule, Money is the King and the Lie is the Queen, that good times summon swarms of bad men, and bad times bring forward good men.

This heathen does pray that the Gray God rises and lets the Bad Times Roll.

This is simply to suggest that those of us who have been lucky enough to have witnessed the final fall of Western Civilization before the drugged haze of the media mesmerists erased our mind with their web of hysteria, have been given a chance to see the world from above the pit of pitiful sloth that our parents were born into. We have been freed from the creed that life is nothing but a barbecue, next to a pool and a manicured lawn to a glass-walled house that there is no need to defend, because the policeman is your friend.