Mrs. Carmody and the final wrath

Dear loyal reader, this is just a small snippet to say that sometimes, when you look into the darkness, the darkness looks into you. Or…he who fights monsters risks also becoming the monster. Or…everywhere I look these days I hear and see Mrs. Carmody and it scares the shit out of me.

I don’t have to explain it. You see and hear it every day too. You see the lines in the sand being drawn. You too hear Mrs. Carmody’s voice in all her shrill righteousness and her wrath, condemning those who would dare oppose her sanctity. She is everywhere these days, infecting all with her perverse piety. The grocery aisles are getting smaller and smaller, the stakes higher. Soon, I think, a standoff will occur. 

In Stephen King’s story/film The Mist, the characters turn on each other in a way that can only be described as primal. Primitive. Biblical. They work themselves into a fervor under the simple belief of one thing: that they are right.

People slip into this mode of action rather easily. It doesn’t take much…save for the belief that you are morally superior to your opponent. Once you believe that, consequences be damned.  

And while we have a ways to go before we perform the ultimate cosplay, and judge each other for our perceived sins, every day we linger online and give Mrs. Carmody another day on her soap box, we inch closer to the scene in the grocery store. She converts more every day. 

The mistake that most make, I think, is believing in their own righteousness. Never throughout the course of history has any side of a conflict believed themselves to be “the bad guys.” The same is true today. 

Everyone is always right. Everyone is always just. Everyone is always morally superior.

What you end up with is two sides of the same coin…battling to the death for the privilege of proclaiming that it is they who are chosen. It is they who are are on the “right” side of history. History is, after all, written by the victors. 

Choose! They say. Choose a side or be: burned, hanged, cast out, executed, damned! You must choose…

I write this to you with caution, dear reader. I write this to you with bated breath. I write this to you from the underground bunker and also from the back of the grocery store, watching…waiting; waiting to see if people will see reason, waiting to see if the monsters will eat each other and hoping that they don’t notice us. 

I guess we will find out soon enough. 


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