No bodies turn up,
so not mob-like in that way, but you get the drift.
Damaging? Yeah,
but …
Much is made about
the American Revolution.
Other notable political
and social revolutions – French, Russian, Nicaraguan, Cuban – at least pay lip
service to change that will address the problem of the poor, a lack of nominal
justice toward them. How those revolutions evolved in trading one bad situation
for another is beside the point.
Rather, the
acknowledgment of the poor masses is central to the liturgy: Socialism is a
pathway backed by pious priests (think the late Archbishop Oscar Romero of El
Salvador), a righteous approach to addressing the needs of the have-nots, a
compelling theory for millions.
The American
Revolution, by contrast, rises from a tax revolt.
Its leaders, the
slave-owning landed gentry, balked at taxation without representation.
But central to
this liturgy is a fear of Leviathan government, what happens with taxes collected.
Where are they spent? Whom do they serve?
American frontier
spirit isn’t with the taxman. The revenuer.
Run him off the
land with your shotgun, your rural militia, drink corn whisky till you black
out at freedom’s dawn.
Trump’s family
cracks that code; it’s the American dream, a family getting the better of the
revenuer.
What your average
American family sees as the bedrock of our nation: the pursuit of happiness
come hell or high water – even better if it’s done by sticking a finger in the
eye of the revenuer.
Next: Running for Your Life: Got a Hero?
