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It's kind of funny thinking about this. In the past, we actually had rights once. Then when those rights got included to groups of people a majority of elitists didn't think should have them, they all became burdened with the reasonableness standard. Then, when some people actually try to put forth the argument that if we truly believe we have the right, we don't need to justify it, just do it. Well horseshit. What happens to the person who says 'fuck it, its my right', and then runs afoul of some peoples 'reasonableness'? They get fucked by a system that others no longer liked because it didn't suit them. Thats why I say shoot the fuckers.
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once upon a time, the world was populated by giants who lived quite apart from one another and spent much of their time going about exercising their rights by shooting their guns whenever they felt like it at whatever they felt like shooting at. other times, they did other things, but mostly, as their rights were central, they wandered around shooting at things real and imaginary, animate and inanimate, as the mood struck them.
every once in a while, a giant exercising his rights would espy another giant exercising his rights.
they would greet each other with a customary ritual called the "firefight" in which they would shoot at each other and laugh and laugh.
after the prescribed period of greeting, if both were still alive, the giants would make a campfire together and tell stories that they all somehow knew about the character god whom they all liked to imagine was up there somewhere, maybe overseeing a warehouse in which heavy machinery stamped out rights that were then delivered to the giants by secret conveyances. the main story involved a giant who stumbled upon the warehouse. entering without the ritual firefight of greeting, so abruptly, rudely, the giant saw this god character overseeing the machinery in the rights factory. "what are you doing?" the giant asked. "what i've always done" came the reply. "what do you mean?" asked the giant. "every since i remember, i've been here overseeing the machinery" the god character said. "this is all i do."
then came the Fall.
the story of the fall is confused, but its outcome evident--the arrival of the tribes of Elites from far away---thousands upon thousands of them poured into giantland. soon they had created private property and changed the landscape, putting Elite settlements Everywhere. you couldn't walk two days exercising your rights any more, for fear of killing one of the Elites, who did not know the rituals, did not engage in the requisite firefights of greeting that were the giants' way of saying hello.
these Elites were not only rude, but they didn't understand the basic importance of being able to walk around exercising your rights by shooting at things animate and inanimate. they assigned other functions to their version of the god character, and so this character migrated away from overseeing the machinery that stamped out the rights of giants and delivered them by secret conveyance. soon, giants all somehow knew a different version of the stories they would tell each other before the fall while sitting around the post-firefight campfire. the machinery of stamping out rights is delicate, these new stories would say. without supervision, they'll just stop. maybe they already have.
this became the giants' individual explanations for the loss of their rights.
they lost control of the story under pressure from the Elites.
soon the giants found themselves entirely overrun by the population of the Elites. they bred like rabbits. and they changed things. they brought new forms of plant life with them like those underground vines called electricity and indoor plumbing and strange glowing flowers called television sets.
worse, these Elites had strange customs, the most obvious and oppressive of which was "reasonableness".
they liked to coexist as a society.
who does that?
they preferred peace amongst themselves to the exercise of rights.
who does that?
but many giants found that staring at the strange glowing television flowers was interesting and that was the first step, the first loss. soon, you could not tell giants from Elites in many places. they looked the same, they talked the same, they all were fascinated by the glowing television plant and no longer went about exercising their rights by shooting at things animate and inanimate whenever they wanted to. and because of that, the important rituals of greeting---the firefight, the checking for survivors, the manly campfire amongst Heroes--all not only fell into disuse, but worse became something else.
these people, these Elites, convinced themselves and the giants that gave in to them that the firefight was "Unreasonanble"
and so into decadence slid the giants, confounded with, undercut by, and assimilated into the oppressive reasonableness of the Elites tribes. who were everywhere. they bred like rabbits and preferred living in peace to the execise of rights.
who does that?
but one day a Prophet will come.
o yes, one day a prophet will come and wake up the sleeping giants from their slumbers.
enough of the tyranny of peaceful co-existence and reasonableness, he will say.
remember the rights we gave up, he will say.
and somehow the sleeping giants will all know that the prophet has come, using that way of knowing that giants have who exist outside of society and only communicate with others after the ritual of firefights around a manly campfire, during which they talk about their rights and where they come from.