This Thursday’s Prophecy #1: There’s Always a Baby; There’s Always Bathwater

When I first started Highhorseman of the Apocalypse [now widely ignored as the Internet’s Finest Unread Blog], somewhere short of two years back, I thought of the name in large part as a bit of self-deprecating humor. It was a sardonic embrace of what we might call – in the verbiage of yesteryear – my own highfalutin prose style.

Lately though, I’m becoming conscious of the centrality of the Apocalypse to everything I think about. In fact, I can’t help but see that I’ve been obsessed with the Apocalypse as far back as I can remember, all the way into barely verbal pre-history. As far back as I look, there it is, like the background radiation of my own personal Big Bang.

I’ve got the Apocalypse permanently on my mind. Identifying myself as the High Horseman was one attempt at finding a social role appropriate to this emotional identity.

I bet you know how it is, at least vicariously. Finding a social role perfectly commensurate with the character we’ve developed in response to our own most exaggerated – yet hauntingly accurate – anxieties is the virtual Idol of the Age. It’s what we aspire to: Being Somebody for Being Ourselves.

Thus, we are a culture obsessed on every level with finding out just exactly who we are.

Betwixt and Between

There is always a baby. There is always bathwater. Given these premises, coming to understand which is which is a requirement, not an option.

I can just hear the Relativists cry: Who are you to decide where the baby ends… and none of us are in any position to think we’re somehow better than water?!?

It’s a point I’ve got to concede. I don’t in any absolute sense know. Still I maintain that we must admit to the necessity of discrimination. The most illiberal word will have its day, one way or another, and I’m really hoping that Wisdom will prevail.

This Wisdom, if you’re wondering, is like the Wisdom of the Female Body, which generates both baby and bathwater, and then – at the right time – flushes one and bears the other.

That’s why in the Christian Apocalypse the New Heaven and New Earth are represented by a mother and child. The Mother and Child Reunion, we might say. This Mother is the Wisdom of the New Human Age, which discriminates in giving birth between what is flushed and what is fed.

And the deeply terrifying thing is – and this, I suspect, is a fear that turns literal falsehoods into poetic truths for billions of people – the Day of Judgment feels inevitable. Whether you recognize it or not, the standard on the Left will be just as bloody as the standard on the Right.

The Great Unresolved Question, the Secret Source of All Terror, concerns how it is to fit humanity through the coming ecological cataract, the unfolding Sixth Extinction.

Maybe somebody knows. I’m not one of those people, beyond believing in the command of the fictional Preacher at Arrakeen: Human beings must return to their original genius of forming human community.

But, how do we return to Tribal Genius within a Diverse Empire? How can we sing King Alpha’s Song in a strange land?

Here’s a synchronicity for you: my blog informs me that the above is post 888, which you Christian Cabalists will know is the Number of the Divine Child who triumphs over the Beast of 666.

Incidentally, you who hold Trump in a contempt passionate enough to be apocalyptically religious, Jared Kushner’s family went into tens of millions of debt a few years back to acquire 666 5th Ave.

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