Maybe the real horror show isn’t that we’re regressing to blood and soil instincts, but that this whole “American Dream” was a con from the start, a freakish sideshow designed to keep the rubes and yokels fixated on an illusion of power, freedom, and superiority. The goons in their red, white, and blue costumes waving flags and chanting slogans don’t realize that the true essence of being American isn’t about tribalism or some primal connection to the land. That’s the snake oil they’ve been fed by the hucksters and charlatans who need the masses to stay blind, fat, and obedient.
No, being American is about a perpetual motion forward, a goddamn refusal to stagnate in the muck of ancient hatreds and archaic loyalties. It’s about embracing the chaos, the contradictions, the glorious mess of a nation built on the rubble of failed utopias and broken promises. It’s about flipping the bird to anyone who tries to drag us back into the swamp of nativism and fear, where the only truth is the one you can bludgeon your neighbor into accepting.
But here we are, teetering on the edge of regression, while the real puppet masters—the corporate overlords, the bureaucratic vampires, the power brokers with their greasy fingers in every pie—smirk from their towers, knowing they’ve got the rabble right where they want them. They’re laughing, not because they share in these blood and soil fantasies, but because they know they’ve sold the most lethal drug of all: the illusion that America was ever about anything more than the constant, relentless hustle for survival in a world that never gave a damn about where you came from or what you believed.
If being American means anything, it’s the rejection of the past’s suffocating grip, the instinct to scorch the earth rather than let the weeds of old world fears take root. It’s the idea that nothing is sacred except the drive to keep moving, keep evolving, keep tearing down whatever idols the fearful and the small-minded try to erect in the name of stability. Blood and soil are the shackles that keep you grounded when you should be soaring into the unknown, into the future, where the only true American instinct should be to burn down the old and build something new, again and again, until the whole damned system shakes itself apart in a beautiful, chaotic dance of freedom and madness.