Archive for March, 2012

Inadequacy created the superhero.

Our only hope; throw a golden lasso around the goverment.

It is myth that one superhero can save the planet; it is reality that a bunch of ordinary people working together can.

Superheroes need only one confidant, the rest of us require several support groups and a therapist.

What troubles Batman troubles us all — something we remember about our parents.

Fear is green Krytonite; love is an unstoppable power.

A devastated past is the fuel for a superpowered future.

Superheroes wear costumes because naked acrobats just scare people.

As the Hulk is energized by anger so passions fuel us all.

Superheroes add to our entertainment — and subtract our cash.

Superheroes are overrated; they make lousy spouses.

After one is super we need them to again be ordinary.

The problem with our iron clad men is that they become more iron than men.

War begins and ends with want.

War rides hard on two great myths: our righteousness and their depravity.

Killing is a rush, slaughter a fix, massacre a high.

War is maim and shame.

Violence for violence ends in complete silence.

To destroy to protect is completely suspect.

The rich war with poor gore.

War culture ends culture.

The moral certainty of the state collapses when the atrocities are exhumed.

Coming off war gives one the shakes, the sweats, nightmares and a compulsive need for another hit.

To war is to marshal plan and order and symmetry to reduce a counterpart to disarray, chaos and fragmentation.

War-like men are preschool kin, living the life of hit and win.

War begins in the heart and ends in the grave.

Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall inherit pretty much everything.

Only love heals us of war.

To thine own self be gentle.

Personhood, our neighbor’s good.

An entity is cured by a community, a community by an entity.

The acceptance of anonymity is the end of tyranny.

Independence at birth; community at death.

We are wired for not-alone.

Fulfillment is the credo of the rapacious libido.

A false self, a slammed door; a true self, an open soul.

At the end of myself is the beginning of you.