Monthly Archives: November 2011

Oso El Ingeniero Social: BUILDING THE PERFECT SOCIETY

Just outside the entrance to La Cueva del Oso, Oso El Ingeniero Social is sitting at the small table he has set up, in order to enjoy a breakfast of bacon – lots and lots – and a few dozen eggs. Needless to say, he is as hungry as a bear…

As an exercise in masochism, as he downs his third or fourth pitcher of Juan-Valdez-personally-picked coffee, he peruses – as his wont – the electronic pages of the Tired, Old Grey Lady. The limp photons scarcely jump off the screen, and barely penetrating his thick skull, hardly make an impression on his unimpressionable mind. ‘Hmmm,’ he sagely hmmms.

‘The world seems to be going to hell in a hand-basket, as they say,’ he says. ‘Just look at this,’ he mutters, more to himself than to anyone else who might happen to be passing by. ‘Troubles everywhere you look, and even where you don’t look.’

He scratches his head, too lazy to get up and scratch his ass.

‘Wars here, there, and everywhere. Debts and bankruptcies; greedy corporations and rich folk picking at the bones of the poor (and mighty slim pickings at that, we would guess). Greedy corporations corrupting innocent young politicians barely out of kindergarten. Dear and glorious leaders brought to their knees by recalcitrant legislatures. And the Koch Gang, once again arisen from the grave and up to its old tricks. And hot – it’s so fucking hot we can barely breathe! We are choking on our own gases (with this thought, Oso El Ingeniero Social manages a slight smile, as he lets a ripe one loose).

And so he is forced by his own bodily ingenuity to rise and seek another spot in which to reflect upon disturbing world events, as chronicled by the Grey and Tired Old Lady (or something like that). And where better than the Pool of Deep Reflections?

He – Oso El Ingeniero Social – lies down beside the still waters, and in spite of the several gallons of coffee and because of the 112.372 pounds or so of bacon, begins to drift off into a late morning siesta. And visions begin to appear:

‘If we were a Dear & Glorious Leader – if we were all-powerful and omnipotent – if we ran the world, here’s what we’d do…we’d send all the bad guys down to the zoo…

If we were a Dear & Glorious Leader, we would stand over the land and command: And the sick and the infirm would be made whole again; blathering idiots and AGW deniers would be turned into Krug-like intellectual giants; and the 99% would arise again – as if from the grave – lifted from their Koch-induced state of desperation and poverty, shouting Hallelujah and heaping praises upon the Great Black Hope: We are saved – we are saved at last!’

Suddenly, he brought out of his pleasant reveries by a dose of reality, as a passing owl lets fly a big, wet dump, right onto on his face. ‘I’ve been droned!’ he growls out.

And as he washes off the bird shit in the Pool of Deep Reflections he reflects: What is it that they say about power? It corrupts?

‘And what else is it that they say: There are many ways to skin a cat – assuming you wanted to skin a cat – and have a cat to skin…

‘And there are many ways to power – that holy grail of those who would Command & Control. And Social Engineering is but one of those ways…’
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