Lesser Evil

Russia, Europe, and "The King In Orange"

In my previous post, the first of my recurring series “Sundry Notes,” I explained that the things which I included weren’t things I thought worthy of the time to write an essay. However, just after I published it, I received this lovely email response:

I’ll not do the dear fellow the honor of including his name or email address in this post, since I often find the sorts who might write such a thing to someone they don’t know rather enjoy getting extra attention.

This kind of absurd — and frankly inhuman — reactivity to any kind of public writing has been what anyone who dares publish words on the internet can expect, at least since 2015. I should be used to such things by now, though, perhaps because I keep thinking humans can do better, I’m always a little surprised and a lot dismayed.

I’ve seen worse, sure. I’ve had threats of all kinds directed towards me, ranging from the very vile to the very personal. But I’ve also seen worse directed at others with even less provocation, and it’s a wonder anyone dares write anymore.

Fortunately, hope isn’t part of the biological mechanism which causes a person to get cancer. In fact, as far as anyone’s been able to prove, the only emotional and psychological states which seem to have some connection to it is despair, and, well, I don’t despair. And, though despite the usual frustrated feelings I have when some unhinged and aggressive response arrives in my inbox, I was also a bit amused, as it pretty much proves exactly what I was writing about.

Neither am I a Trumpist, whatever that means. I’ve not voted in an American election for ages; when I did, I always voted third party, usually for whichever candidate was the least interested in starting wars and the most interested in restraining the outrages of capitalist destruction of people and the earth. Not, of course, that there were many such options, nor would any such candidate have a chance.

But perhaps, despite what I suggested in my Sundry Notes, and because the matter obviously makes some people lose their fucking minds and write threatening notes to strangers, Trump’s probably worth writing about a bit.

In starting this essay, I flipped through the pages of a book I’d intended to review years ago yet never did. It’s called The King in Orange: The Magical and Occult Roots of Political Power, and it’s by John Michael Greer.