Coup D'état
Materialism, my closest friend, I have come to you yet again. Despite all our disputes and moral differences, I have come to you not as an equal but as a slave to my lack of emotional wisdom asking for your “meaningless’ references to lead me astray once more. Your glorious folly and your polished-by-Dionysus blood wine and bountiful generosities coddle me day by day and yet with all of these I still come to you this, a selfish request for my aura:
How do I build shelter?
How does one find garments to cover their filth?
With all I have Materialism, I’m walking on stilts made of the finest silt.
My farms lack manure. With all I have, my crops wither in the Spring.
Materialism dearest, I have the tools but I cannot build towers or bridges.
I could hire professionals who could make bountiful my barrenness, but that quid pro quo will only be a disappointment in size-a wisp.
Materialism, my best friend, my heart’s resources are vast and bountiful but how does one take the skills I learned under your mentorship into the psychological?
How do I translate all of that into wealth?
Materialism, it’s either you respond or I will be forced to reform your current regime. Yes, I will be a Judas and a kiss will be our last straw. In our tangle, you have shown me so much care and have blessed me with immense privilege, but I still find all of this to be unsatisfactory hence you can rest easy in the fact that I have fully embodied your teachings.
So what will it be? Since you promised me you can provide me with everything?
