Dancing In The Jaws Of The Nothing
It's taken me a while to crawl out of the pit of everlasting despondency that accompanied my unfortunate witnessing of the May 1st Illegal Immigrants Pride Rally down the streets of Las Vegas, but I think I'm recovering now, thanks for asking -- and to those who sent the flowers and gummy bears, you have my undying gratitude and deep appreciation.
First off, attending the protest, er, Illegal Immigrant Pride Rally, was not my idea of a good time, and I wouldn't have gone except for the boyfriend standing at the door, jangling the car keys and telling me to haul my fat ass or I was going to miss something historic ("historically disturbing" is what he should have said). So I tossed aside the Harlequin Romance novel I was reading, stuck the half-consumed box of chocolate truffles back in the refrigerator, slapped a dab of additional product in my hair, checked the wardrobe (were my jeans sufficiently trendy enough? I was going out in public, after all, and there might be cameras), flossed and brushed my teeth, filed my nails and engaged in most every other stalling technique a reasonable gay man has at his disposable until I began to hear loud, roaring noises coming from the direction of the front door, at which point I hustled my butt and we left for "The March".
We positioned ourselves on the pedestrian bridge which spans the main road dividing the Wynn Hotel from the Fashion Show Mall and waited for the big event. And we weren't the only ones. Well, we were the only white ones, but since everyone else was dressed in the ubiquitous white t-shirt (which was supposed to stand for what? cheap and accessible? is that the message they really wanted to send?), we almost blended right in. I kept thinking to myself, "How is it that so many illegal immigrants feel comfortable enough to brazenly and publicly announce their anti-citizenship via uniform?" as groups of illegal aliens gathered on the sidewalks and the bridge, excitedly chatting away in Spanish while new mothers pushed an unending parade of strollers and gang-bangers slouched past in cigarette smoking packs.
Off in the distance, we could see flashing police lights as Las Vegas' finest did their damned best to fully accommodate the "rights" of non-citizens (who, because they're non-citizens, are actually not entitled to citizen-taxpayer funded police escorts) and a creeping darkness which began to manifest upon the horizon as the headlights of cars vanished from the main thoroughfare like so many hors d'vores from a platter in Michael Moore's hotel room. You know, you can hear the talking heads spout numbers, like 11 million, or 12 million, without really having any concrete grasp of what such a number actually means until it stares you in the eyes, and as the wave of illegal pedestrians surged towards the Las Vegas strip (though I have to say it was more like a slow stroll than a surge -- I was, like, "Jesus, if this were a march of pasty-assed Caucasians, it would have been here and gone by now . . . things to do! people to see! the O.C. is on the TiVo and I need a gin and tonic!"), I was literally struck dumb by the sight of what seemed like tens of thousands (though the news reported only eight thousand) of illegal immigrants marching openly down the street of an American city, waving Mexican flags and shouting demands that they be treated with the dignity and respect that they haven't bothered to extend toward the citizens or the laws of the very country into which they illegally entered.
Never-mind the irony of it all, I was literally sick to my stomach. The BF, standing next to me, said, "Here comes the beginning of the end," to which I replied, "No, this is just another death rattle in the lungs -- the end started back in 2001 when Islamic terrorists flew two airplanes into New York City skyscrapers and all America could do in response was wring its collective hands and whimper about how dropping a series of nuclear bombs on the Middle East might make a lot of Europeans dislike us."
Watching the overt display of "Go fuck yourselves, you pathetic Americans" ooze towards the main drag of Las Vegas casinos and hotels, snarling traffic and disrupting commerce, I was reminded of The Neverending Story and the paralysis, hopelessness and loss of faith called The Nothing that was literally devouring the entire province of Fantasia. The moral of the story? If no one believes in a land, then the land ceases to exist, and what has all the endless senatorial bickering, media sniping and liberal self-flagellation since 9/11 been but a manifestation of a profound loss of faith in the value and worth of American citizenship.
When Paris was over-run by car-burning vandals, conservative bloggers snickered, rolled their eyes and said, "Ha, Fwance - c'est la vie!" Yet here we are, facing our own The Nothing which is eating away a culture of freedom and aspiration and replacing it with a whiny little attitude of entitlement and victimhood. I mean, really -- can anyone in their right minds honestly consider an illegal alien anything but a victim of his own crappy choices? If a better life in another country is so important that a person will knowingly and willingly break our immigration laws to get here, then how is it that they once they've arrived, they're suddenly oppressed? And the Americans who march right along with the law breakers, the new victims of our supposedly terrible American brutality (yet 12 million people are marching through the streets demanding instant admittance to the Nazi regime -- go figure), the American socialist-democrats who understand that the only way they'll ever be able to grab the reigns of power is by importing millions of foreign voters and then granting them citizenship -- I feel like I'm staring into The Nothing at this point, vainly waiting for a Luck Dragon who looks and sounds nothing like John McCain to swoop down from the collective psyche and spirit the last true believers in freedom and capitalism off to safety, wherever that may be.
The thing is, if the United States turns into just another nation with a senate of Party Members who have nationalized the oil industry (what -- you think this whole "price gouging" thing is anything but another step toward the goal of eliminating a market driven energy economy?), who have driven the wealthy out of the country with exorbitant tax hikes, and who have regulated all free commerce to the point of economic strangulation, resulting in a populace of outstretched hands, then it won't be The Neverending Story anymore -- instead, it might just be Atlas Shrugs. I, for one, have never seen John Galt as anything but a last desperate hope against The Nothing of creeping socialism, and it's telling that Ayn Rand ends her novel with a speechifying whimper rather than a bang, which ought to strike fear into the hearts of even the steeliest of Libertarians.
Speaking of which, we left the Illegal Immigrant Pride Rally before it finished, as the Mexican flag-waving and Mexican nationalistos/nationalistas marching through Las Vegas were doing nothing but compounding an already bad headache. Funny, that -- wave an American flag and liberals for miles will shriek about jingoism and mindless patriotism, but march down the streets waving a Mexican flag while clamoring about imaginary oppressions and suddenly flag waving is all the rage among the outre set.
Now, where is that gin and tonic . . .
ADDENDUM:
Okay, well, maybe I can stop drinking after all.