The Clash

When two American tribes collided in Charlottesville, the collision was ugly, people died, bones were broken and windows smashed. A zealot drove his dark sports car into the crowd, probably believing himself to be on a holy quest to save the fatherland. Were his victims no longer fellow Americans? Was all he saw as he stormed the narrow alley, just a hostile mass of enemy combatants, a clear and present danger that needed to be crushed?
I have seen that transformation taking place too many times. I have met those who so easily became self-proclaimed Just Avengers.
From the Middle East to Virginia, the Causes change but the Metamorphosis is always the same. Righteous Philosophers set a wooden stage laced with heaps of straw, Demagogues and masters of crowds light a spark and feed the growing flames and then the Converts execute.

Note to self; beware of old barns.


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