Reflections On Our Inner Bush: Corporate Monkeys In Our National House Of
Mirrors
By Phil Rockstroh
Created Sep 21 2006 - 8:53am
"On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their
hearts' desire at last, and the White House will be adorned by a downright
moron.'' -- H.L. Mencken, Baltimore Sun, 1920

As Americans waddled into the new century, overweight, overworked, and as
self aware as a cloister of sea slugs -- so too arrived, affecting his
bandy-legged, fake cowboy swagger, George W. Bush, to usher in this era of
unquenchable, consumer craving and perpetual, martial emergency.

Currently, we watch as Bush vacillates between chest-puffing belligerence
and jaw-gyrating fecklessness. Due to his hapless response to overwhelming
events, some commentators have made comparisons to Jimmy Carter. Not true:
Carter, as beset by tumult and contretemps as his administration was during
the late 1970s, never resembled, as Bush does, a tweaked-out methhead in the
throes of a full-blown Methamphetamine-induced psychosis.

There is little mystery as to why Bush is now beating a war drum, in time to
that all-too-familiar election time, Rovian rag. Bush's handlers are
desperate: Recent polls have revealed that suburban males, Republican women,
southerners, and even Christian fundamentalists are starting to have
misgivings about Bush. Why? One would guess: Since Bush has proven himself
incapable of changing Iraqi blood into cheap, ever-available oil, this has
caused, for a portion of his base, the sheen of beatitude to come off Jesus'
earthly emissary.

The aura of despair leveling upon the country is undeniable ... Not that
there was a great deal of peace of mind previously here in The United States
of Distractions. The act of being in perpetual flight from reality requires
a great amount of energy; it's quite a workout pushing down dread. We've
been faking it for a while now. Over the years, our relentless selling of
ourselves to the world became about as genuine as Bush's forced smile when
he's in the presence of cameras or African Americans.

Baffled, mortified, by what we've witnessed during these Bush-afflicted
years, we ask ourselves: How did this come to be?

We may be unable to answer this question -- because we cannot lay all the
blame upon Bush. Our nation's aura of insularity and hysteria was present
long before Bush. Bush is merely emblematic of the depth of our collective
denial regarding how cheaply we have sold ourselves to the exploitive
corporate order and the concomitant unease engendered by this Faustian
bargain.

Although many of his former supporters may be growing weary of him, one is
cautioned not to mistake these developments for any sort of vast, societal
awakening. Bush's steady decline in popular support is merely the result of
Americans, on a personal level, beginning to feel the effects of his
administration's mixture of ruthlessness and incompetence.

But this fact alone will not effect change. One does not exactly have to be
graced with extraordinary powers of perception to notice that Bush is a
fraud. What is more difficult to apprehend is this: The emergence of Bush is
not an anomaly. Bush is merely a symptom of the pathologies of corporate
capitalism. He is not the disease.

Bush was packaged like any other corporate icon; accordingly, the war in
Iraq was sold in the manner of any other corporate PR campaign. Bush is
simply a product, designed by and marketed for the benefit of the elites of
the corporate state.

Bush's manufactured image is a hack's construct of mythic American manhood:
He was sold as an uncomplicated man of action -- a Christian cowboy
redeemer -- a man who could kill evil-doers at fifty paces . Just from a
single whiff of his manly phenomenal musk -- our enemies would flee back to
their caves and cower in abject terror ... Although events have shown, to
appropriate an overheated metaphor from the Christian fundie, End Time
lexicon, Bush is, in fact, closer to an Angel of Idiocy come with a Sword of
Stupidity to reveal the rot of our corporate dystopia.

The sad and tragic circumstances of our time are much larger than Bush.
Bush's grandiosity mirrors us, a people who have lost all sense of
proportion. Look around: notice how huge and grotesque the objects and
accoutrements of our age have become: colossal motor vehicles; the portions
of food we crave; gaudy, land-devouring mcmansions; American consumer's
enormous, sea-to-shining-sea asses. These things are manic compensations
antecedent to the crash to come. Apropos, our SUVs, oversized pickup trucks,
and hummers are no longer large enough to compensate for our feelings of
powerlessness; our epic servings of food no longer serve to push down the
sense of dread; we cannot find enough room in our mcmansions to hide away
all of our anger, sorrow, and regret.

Mojo Nixon sang, "Everybody has a little Elvis in them." Nowadays,
regrettably, we must sing: Everybody has far too much Bush in them.
Internally, to one degree or another, we're all George W. Bush. Bush is the
corporate state's dancing monkey -- as, to one degree or another, we all
are. The corporate state necessitates that we become, like Bush, all puffed
up phonies, in order to face a daily life ruled by its mandates -- as well
as -- to compensate for our inner emptiness, borne of our internalization of
it.

If we choose to face our inner Bush, our habitual verities and sacred
beliefs risk being shattered and scattered asunder. Because the situation is
larger than us and it's larger than Bush: Bush is merely a reflection of it
all. Ergo: to listen to the mangled syntax of Bush's speech patterns is to
hear the sound of the national infrastructure crack and buckle; his booze
and cocaine decimated brain cells mirror the earth's diminishing
bio-diversity; his snits of entitlement and his ruthlessness echo the
entropic forces of global capitalism that are driving the engines of
extinction.

There is a feeling of flimsiness and haphazardness present in our daily
lives here in the empire. Even the landscape before us has been inflicted
with an ugly, ad hoc quality. The structures of our age evince a lack of
substance. The shoddy, quick buck-snatching stripmall/big box store/fast
food outlet, prefab nowhereland of the present day United States is
reflective of our shoddy, quick buck-snatching leaders, who are, in turn, a
reflection of us. We have come to dwell within this Architecture of Denial;
we have come to call this House of Distorted Mirrors, our way of life.

As, all the while, the parallel narratives of compulsive consumerism and
Christian End Time Mythology surround us.

Contemporary Christian fundamentalism is a religion of consumer instant
gratification. It is a religious cosmology resonating from a junk food
paradigm: a Gospel of The Drive Thru Jesus; when The Rapture comes, our
corporeal bodies will be cast aside like fast food wrappers.

But be warned, by your eating of all that high caloric food, all of you
Jesus-hungry Lard Asses of The Lord: If your clothes were to fall from you
(as your prophecies claim they will) as you rise skyward, the sight of all
your fat, sagging bodies, floating in the air, will resemble anything but
the dawning of eternal paradise -- instead the event will more likely
resemble an endless tape loop of a porno video for fat fetishists shot in a
zero gravity chamber.

On the secular side of our sickness: Big Pharma factories and rural crystal
meth labs can't manufacture enough product to prevent this sinking spell.
Soon, even the ruling elites will begin to buckle beneath the weight of
their self-deception. We the laboring classes already know the feeling, due
to the fact, we've been carrying those bloated bastards, plus their
delusions of infinite entitlement, on our backs for quite some time now. We
strain beneath the load, because the plutocrats have grown very fat gorging
themselves on the nation's seed crop.

Bush is nothing more than the effluvia, rising from the landfills of the
Corporate State. He's the abiding stench of what we buried and tried to
pretend never existed.

Corporate culture is based on mendacity made palatable for mass consumption:
Public relation and advertising firms exist to create cute, cartoon animal
icons to mask the realities of the slaughterhouse. In corporate life, there
is scant reward for depth and authenticity; conversely, an amicable
ruthlessness pays off well indeed.

Corporate "reality" is all about "perception management". Hence, a
corporate, utterly commodified, life usurps, exploits and diminishes not
only the outer environment -- but our internal ones as well. How could one
not play off the other and visa versa? How can one spend all day in a
so-called "work environment," spending a large percentage of one's life
beneath florescent lights, with sweatshop-cobbled shoes touching industrial
carpeting, and bodies supported by bland, utilitarian office furniture --
then return, by way of a hideous, dangerous freeway, home to some ugly
suburb or exurb -- all the while having one's senses incessantly inundated
with commercial imagery calculated to manipulate -- hypnotize one,
actually -- into a particular way of viewing the world, and not become
subject to the sort of psychic pathology that is pandemic among the populace
of the empire.

Living such criteria, day by day, how could we not have conjured Bush and
company? Bush is only a byproduct of the present corporate order; he is but
a reflection of the everyday hubris, denial, mendacity, and exploitation of
daily life in the corporatist state. He is emblematic of the House of
Mirrors that our nation's collective psyche has become -- a mass of
distorted perceptions sustained by professional liars and ignorant killers.

Bush is our hidden intentions made manifest before us: We live in an empire
bent on murder/suicide; our nation has become a global-wide spree killer ...
unrepentant ... seemly devoid of conscience.

Then what hope remains for us, here, in this age, where self-serving lies
promulgated by public relations hacks have hijacked the verities of the
human mind, heart, and imagination, as all the while, so many genuine voices
of humanity have been lost amid this seemly endless bacchanal of bullshit
and blown blood?

That is up to us: Personally and collectively, our fate might well be
determined by how honest we're willing to be with ourselves. After all, by
way of our passivity, we're at least partially responsible for letting a
million Rovian Turd Blossoms bloom. We have summoned Bush by the incantation
of our hidden intentions; perhaps, if we were to awaken to the George W.
Bush concealed within, we might understand our own collaboration in creating
him - and then, at long last, we can begin the process of dismissing him and
all he represents.
_______
Phil Rockstroh

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"A little patience and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their
spells dissolve, and the people recovering their true sight, restore their
government to its true principles. It is true that in the meantime we are
suffering deeply in spirit,
and incurring the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public
debt. But if the game runs sometimes against us at home we must have
patience till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning
back the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are at
stake."
-Thomas Jefferson