Disabled nazis, Means and Ends

The kindness and goodwill of others can be taken away as easily as it can be given. Promises made by ideologues and benevolant souls are only that. A victory in the war of hearts and minds will never bring us peace. Those kindhearted allies need only go back on their words. And as they say-

Everyone has a price.

How many hours of hunger before the vegan opens that can of tuna? How great a need would bring a devout catholic to steal? How much danger before the pacifist reach for a gun?

Perhaps a lot. Maybe the vegan would reach the verge of starvation before the smell of fish waft through the empty hut? Perhaps the catholic's daughter's would have to black out before he procures her a vial of insulin? And maybe the pacifist's neighboors would get riddled with lead, before he decides- "not my family."

But every man has their price.

And what of the politician?

Men of "tough choices", utilizers of means. Holders and clawers of power. Goodwill and "democratic sportsmanship" may look good before the camera, but when your opposition is disabled... Debating them is risky. It's a game, and games have winners, and losers.

But holding assemblies on the second floor, Allocating funds away from elevator maintenance, Making tables wide and passages slim, "Forgetting" to assign enough disabled parking spots at the newly-built lot, Failing to invite sign-language interperters, Outlawing service animals, Skimping on brail plaques....

That's so easy it may as well be cheating.

Now, yes, that's low, unimaginably low, and no half-decent human would resort to such filfthy tactics. But, as the title already gave away:

What of the disabled nazi party?

There they roll, a wheeled phalanx of ashen men, preceeded only by the subtle, menacing woosh of their freshly lubricated axels. Their uniforms—remeniscent of military dress—signals that they've come to wage war.

Should they find victory in their campaign— you'll die. You, personally, and everyone who shares a commonality with you. With a stroke of their pen they'll slice your throat clean, strip you of your humanity and sentence you to the grindhouse. Death, and the destruction of everything you love. Imagine that. Really imagine that.

Now, as I've mentioned! Debating them is risky. It's a game, and games have winners, and losers.

But... maybe if you didn't have to play this game... If you didn't have to gamble the lives of innocents on the outcome of a match... A match which may be rigged, a game that, even within its permitted boundaries, foul play is more than common... Maybe you can tell yourself that every low act is "just playing the game"...

That's how the fascists think.

Those who fetishize power would not compose their ranks of those who are exploitable. This includes anyone who's needs aren't virtually universal.

However—those who fail to understand that no strength can exist without weakness—they still believe their cause is just. Worse! In their delusional ways of seeing, with those fickle hearts beating in their chests- they can only move with certainty if they think their quest is holy. sacred.

Fascists must believe themselves knights to ward off evil. Fascists must believe their opponents to be evil itself.

For what is fascism if not the cult of "us VS them"?

And now you see? In their holy quest, they cannot afford to fail. Their failure means no less than the total collapse of civilization, and the destruction of all that is good in this world. A world overrun by the evil and the impure. A world consisting of everything they hate and nothing that they love.

And sure, they could debate the kind old lady in her wheelchair, who preaches wellfare on the senate's floor.

...But debating her is risky. It's a game, and games have winners, and losers. And with nothing short of "all that is good" on the line... See the issue?

Political power comes from the ink-reservoire of an architect's pen.

Kind ol' Senator Bertha, in her red knitted sweater—embroydered with lovely roses and lillies, sits exasperated in front of a broken elevator That would take her to the second floor. This stock-photo of inaccessibility makes for a pitiefully silent protest.

Senator Bertha will not speak at the assembly today.

Who else?