I must write more about the inherently false assumptions of "restoration" movements such as the Tea Party. Yet for the moment this excerpt from Aldous Huxley's Island sums up my general opinion of the Tea Party (or at least what it threatens to become):
"...And then the faces of the assorted listeners. Huge, idiot faces, blankly receptive. Faces of the wide-eyed sleepwalkers. Faces of young, Nordic angels rapt in the Beatific Vision. Faces of the baroque saints going into ecstasy. Faces of the lovers on the brink of orgasm. One Folk, One Realm, One Leader. Union with the unity of an insect swarm. Knowledgeless understanding of nonsense and diabolism. And then the newsreel camera had cut back to the serried ranks, the swastikas, the brass bands, the yelling hypnotist on the rostrum. And here once again, in the glare of his inner light, was the brown insect-like column, marching endlessly to the tunes of this rococo horror-music. Onward Nazi soldiers, onward Christian soldiers, onward Marxists and Muslims, onward every chosen People, every Crusader and Holy War-maker. Onward into misery, into all wickedness, into death!"
Doesn't literature just do it better sometimes?
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