Joel Hirst writes,
Tomorrow Venezuela will finally succumb to her self-inflicted wounds. Tomorrow she will die. She will be mourned, by those of us who have loved her – who have known her, before the folly set in. “How did this happen?” many will write, and are already asking “What happens next?” Futile questions – because what happens next is nothing. For the unwilling inhabitants of Venezuela, nothing will ever happen again. The same speeches; the same propaganda; the same food lines; the same medicine shortages; the people growing thinner and shorter generation by generation while the rulers become corpulent and obese. The same faces aging ungracefully, the hideous masters of ceremony becoming old and foul, presiding eternally over festivities that have never been festive – not for the people. A zombie apocalypse of red and rage and carnage that has burned itself out but that nevertheless keeps going. Not purpose or momentum, only persistence.Read more here.
The revolution is over – and they won, those who built with expert precision an edifice of hate and stupidity could not have lost. Because what we have, freedom and prosperity and love is a delicate flower that is easily squashed under ancient prejudices and humanity’s legendary tolerance for injustice. A single tender fir tree does not withstand an avalanche, no matter how courageous she is. Oh, to be sure they won’t tell you that the revolution is over – those who used the mayhem to seize power. They need it – and they will keep up the pantomime; they will pretend that there is still something they are fighting for, and against. But they know it’s over – as do the enslaved – as do we all.