I’m almost at the point of rejecting all labels for myself; not out of a sense of modern propriety (it’s trendy at the moment to reject labels), but out of fear of the burden that comes from them. It’s almost as if every label applied by men to themselves these days, is applied in error, and I don’t want to be in error.
The man who calls himself a humanist is anything but. He seeks the end of humanity, and entreats his rulers to bring about technologies that promise to either end the world as we know it, or to re-shape it after some ghastly end. “Let’s blend our machines with our bodies, and by doing so, end ourselves, and give birth to a new race of boundless, powerful techno-gods!”
The progressive is no better; as I see things, the Earth is filling its God-ordained role by progressing freely through space, while the progressive, it seems, is doing everything he can to stop it. Time is the enemy of the progressive, even though he appeals to its progression as justification for every evil deed.
Surely the Christian is better, right? Unfortunately not. The ones parading around under this label are most apt to be the worst sort of person we might meet on a daily basis.
The Satanists no longer worship Satan (at least, not directly), politicians do anything but practice politics, preachers never preach (they inspire, or cajole, but never preach), and poets, instead of bravely revealing society to itself, regurgitate the boring myths already prevalent in the minds of their readers.
The “good” acts are called evil, while the evil acts are heralded as bravery. The “brave” men are bullies, and the wretches are villains.
In this world – a good man has to be an outlaw.
But who will be the outlaw’s wife?
I can only conclude that she’ll be a witch, living despised and rejected in a swamp somewhere.