In a week when we are mesmerized by molasses pomp and ceremony celebrating a Queen’s sixty years, the velocity of change in our own society is staggering by contrast.
With each electoral tally, the American political landscape is turning into Yeats’ vision of civilization over there in “The Second Coming” after World War I:
“Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,/The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned;/The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity.”
The week also brings the death of Ray Bradbury, whose novel “Farenheit 451” foresaw a dystopian America where books are burned and dissent is destroyed, less by tyranny than an “electronic ocean of sound” drowning individual thought and reason.
Nowhere on the horizon is there any hopeful sign of recovery from this summer’s political fever dream.
In Wisconsin, a distraught voter slaps the face of Scott Walker’s disappointing challenger, a gesture more appropriate for the entire American electorate as it sleepwalks blindly toward the edge of anarchy with little hope on the horizon for awakening in time.