I would much rather not be here, than to stay and have to witness the grim destruction of our proud nation, the land we hold so dear. It is of little consolation that I get to use inflammatory words that should increase hits on my blog multifold and no doubt even get me onto some fascist national security watch list.
Hello boys and girls! Nothing to see here. Move along, folks.
For I speak as would a prophet; I don't champion destruction, and war, by any means (as opposed to those who favor open anarchy). If I had a choice, I would rather be in Israel, but this is where G-d put me, and I have no choice but to sound the warning cry. I can't wear a false happy face when I know that all Hell is coming down the road at full gallop and there is nothing to hinder it when it gets here. So now you get to see the face under the face; the mask removed.
The trouble with masks is that, if you wear them for long enough, you become like them. And (as they say in Hoboken) if you make a face and the wind changes, the face sticks. So grimace at your peril!
On the other hand, without a mask, without an extra face, one becomes ... well ... exposed to public view.
So what of many masks and faces do I use? Oh, much the same as most of you other bloggers.
Certainly, I have played a round or two of The Vicious Circle of the Great Mask of Indifference. The rules are simple. Think of something that you want. Imagine, for whatever reason you can come up with, that you can't get it. Then pretend that you don't want it. This almost guarantees that you won't actually get it. So you can start to believe that you never get what you want, and that you really don't care one way or the other. The Great Mask of Indifference ensures that you stay well within this comfort zone.
This, by the way, is not to be confused with The Raised Drawbridge Mask of Nonchalance. Such a mask is a defensive posture for use against provocative fellows who wish to see the colour of the wallpaper inside your castle. Whatever they do, jumping up and down or chucking cannonballs through your windows, the inscrutable Mask of Nonchalance demonstrates that you hardly even notice their presence.
Another example would be The Day-to-Day Drudgery Mask of Getting By. In Yorkshire where they make the pudding, this would be known as the Mask of Nobbut Middlin'. It's been quite a favourite of folks like us, and I've been so habitual in its use that, even when I'm feeling that life is quite good, people come up to me and ask what the matter is.
Maybe the wind is changing.
But now, a little like a forty-year-old Winston Smith at the Ministry of Truth and salvation, at the age at which a man supposedly has the face he deserves, I begin to wonder how life would feel if the oppression of public view was removed and I could peel back the masks. To not care that, when I laugh, my eyes pop out and my rabbit teeth protrude. To not give a damn about having a few crows feet, or the frosty look of my graying hair.
Would I get all that I want? Would I be able to feast and drink, chortle with merriness, and frolic in the nakedness of truth, for the rest of my days?
Or, have we have turned into the world of Orwell, is it the job of the internal Thought Police to prevent such insane freedom?
I intend to save as many as possible. That is why I have long kept a ambulance.
And thank you, Mr.Kanikoski for your help.