Beck: The Way Home

"Home becomes a foreign land."

Scott DeSalvo verges on The Shattering.

Before I invited them to throw me out of that place, I used to tell him, "You're going to come to me." This is part of what I had in mind. It involves realization of reality. I cannot imagine the mental anemia that must be required to countenance the run of politics fully toward the collective in this country, now. I do understand, however, what it takes to see it for what it is. Every American now finds himself an exile in this land: the principal necessary element of the definition is a reverence for freedom. It is again, as Thomas Paine observed in 1776, "hunted round the globe," and the heart of an American patriot is doubly wounded in realizing that this is where the fugitive was first taken in, with results that will ring through world history forever.

Nothing about this government is about freedom, now. That includes the biennial auto da fe at polls which is held out as the hope and duty of the dismal creatures who have fallen to this state of politics in this country. Just look at it: you get to wait two years before you're allowed to roll up your little prayer in a vote-bottle to be cast off on tides of insanity and treachery. Meanwhile, the tides rage. In six months, Obama has wreaked more havoc on freedom than whole generations in the future should have to bear, with every sign of intent to make the job as complete as possible. Have your say if you want: he is having his way. And the damage that he can do before the next prayer round-up is incalculable, and you know it, if you're capable of one moment's thought.

"Hope". The thing carries two sets of connotations: one suffused in florid tones ample to blotting out necessary facts, and the other actively cast in clear daylight apprehension of reality in order to look for "hope".

I'm not sure where it is, either, but I know it will not be found in subscription to the politics that have brought us to all this. Every single one of these worms now crawling through the American idea must be instantly fired: put on notice that they have no authority, and every responsibility for the holes in this once noble house. This only happens one heart and mind at a time, and if it is true, then that's the end of it. It is a radically -- drastically -- individualist proclamation to the whole world, even if no one ever hears it.

It lives alone, now.

When I told this man, several times, that he would "come to me", he finally called it "creepy", if I recall right. When he finds himself and sees that that's what I was talking about, then in the words attributed to Gen. George S. Patton, he will know what to do.