The news, both domestic and international, is rife with stories of horrific violence, abuses of power, and general douchefuckery.
I think, after pretty much the whole of human history has tested the “Violence will solve our problems” hypothesis and found it wanting, it is time for a new approach.
Sure, sure, there’s pacifism, but that will hardly satisfy the desires of those with destructive tendencies and a desire to subjugate, and it does tend to leave a lot of vulnerable bodies in the paths of projectiles fired by those of a decidedly non-pacifist bent. Besides, going from global arms proliferation to beating our swords into plowshares is a little cold-turkey for most human beings.
We need an in-between phase, a step-down.
One can argue that being hooked on methadone is worse than being hooked on nothing, but some members of the medical and law enforcement communities, at least, seem to view being hooked on methadone as preferable to being hooked on heroin.
So what is the metaphorical methadone maintenance that will get us off our smack-like addiction to destruction and carnage, and one step closer to the clean-living of a swordless, plowshare-abundant utopia?
This is my proposal for a metaphorical methadone maintenance of lesser destructiveness: assemble teams of preadolescent mean girls to act as consultants to teach nonviolent strategies for destroying the confidence and self-esteem of opponents, rather than exploding their homes or tearing their fragile bodies to shreds with various projectiles.
Unkind, even harmful?
Capable of dissolving a human body into a “pink mist”?
So, one would have to concede, an improvement; at least, one would have to make such a concession if one enjoys being possessed of a consciousness, however damaged, housed in a non-liquified form. I know I certainly do.
Will everyone be on board with this, especially in the early phases of implementation? Undoubtedly not, but those who foolishly hold on to the violent methods of the past will soon be at a massive disadvantage.
Sure, okay, maybe you are facing off against a neighboring state where nuclear weapons are proliferating at a rate that suggests its scientists have successfully engineered nuclear rabbits, capable of shagging and producing litter after litter of adorable-but-deadly atomic baby bunnies. Putting aside your own state-funded “Project: Hippity-Hop Bang/Boom!” might seem foolhardy at best, and at worst like an invitation for your country to be overrun by leporine legion of fluffy foreign fauna, with each individual atomic fluffball possessed of enough destructive force to level entire cities.
What you need to bear in mind, though, is that if you find an adept mean girl to coach you, and you really practice the lessons she teaches, you will actually find yourself in possession of something far more devastating than a brace of atomic bunnies.
Picture it: your neighbor state’s United Nations rep has just gone off on a long, fiery, rhetoric-riddled rabbit-y rant before the Security Council. You have sat silently throughout, wearing a blank expression of abject boredom. Maybe you have sent a few covert texts to some of the reps from your ally states, and wryly smirked at each other from across the chamber, but mostly you have been focused on inspecting your manicure.
Said rep rambles to a close.
It is your turn for a rebuttal.
You pause, make some rep-to-rep eye contact, and then, with an utter lack of inflection, you give your reply:
© Lisa Hurley