The Game of Card
Nothing on this Earth bothers someone, anyone, so much as this—purposeful and necessary destruction of our natural mental inhibitions. We are merely human, subject to deathly jealousies and cruel manipulations. We hate, as human creatures of intelligent capacities, the absolute domination down to the smallest pressure of control. We abhor all who exert their power over us. Who in their right minds would knowingly and willingly place him or herself in such a position so as to receive the full brunt of the fear and hatred rooting deep in such a cause? The President of the United States takes some of this responsibility, and look, just look, at what we think of him, what we do to him. Only a brave and stupid man would swallow whole the attacks of us, the controlled, and grasp even tighter. Only a fool such as this—
A writer of truth is one who absolutely accepts this sour fate. As one who proceeds to shape minds and persuade men, writers are definitely as responsible for binding men’s minds as any given political leader. Yet even these, authors of men, do not enjoy the lofty weight of the duty handed to them by Fate himself. I have found among men only one bold and so foolish. A writer of terrible ability who has tried his hand at plays, historical fiction, science fiction, fantasy, religious fiction, and even short fiction. He has remained an extremely prolific and decisive author even into his later years.
He, the controller of many, has manipulated each of his readers individually and in separate and distinct ways. Some cry and others give scorn, and yet despite their attitudes towards this man, he persists eternally to destroy free will and emotion by being one of the most prolific authors in this day and age. He had succumbed to the feel of power and authority.
With simple words on a single page of an individual tale he begs us to feel, to think the way he wants us to. Willing him by sheer enjoyment to take upon his own soul the burden of our decisions and our free thought, this man becomes the recipient of our minds and our children’s minds. He bears both the belief and the skepticism and continues to produce something that will turn the world upside down, no matter what your orientation is. Fear him, I beseech you, fear him, respect him, and love him. He does what no man wants to do, but he does so because he must. He has made us his children. His Children of the Mind.My final thought that I give you to go with this essay is quoted from Hot Sleep, "Being God," he said, "is the worst damn job in the universe." Give it a thought, it works, neh?
