From the title of this blog one not familiar with my writing and the ethos of the freehoodship would be little surprised if I were now to launch into some patriotic USA chanting disguised has reasoned argument; I am not going to do this. Like Thoreau, I think patriotism or nationalism of any sort is “a maggot in the head,” and thank you very much, I already have enough of those in that very location. My maggots are not of the patriotism sort, though they are patriotic, pledging allegiance to my double or shadow as if it were the corpse they feed on, and I think it is. Anyway, these maggots, my maggots, your maggots, go by other names, such as “guilt,” “shame,” “hubris,” and “depression.” They have voices so much like our own — they are highly skilled at doing voice impressions — that we don’t realize, often for many years, that we are not them, that even the trusted voice of our conscience is frequently not even our own, but rather, one of those maggots. But if one is interested in freedom, true human freedom where the motive is a pure love of the deed, then one first begrudgingly loves and then fully loves the wise teachings of these maggots, funny as that sounds. Indeed, if rightly employed, these maggots will eat the dead shit out of your head. And trust me, that’s a good thing!
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