One Shining Knight

I'm on a roll here. Things keep occurring to me. Hang with me. It's important.
This relates to my recent posts Optimism II and A Word About Optimism II (if you haven't read them, scroll down and do it, I'll wait)

OK...Here's the thing, people are starving for clarity, leadership, heroism, honor, glory.
Don't think so? Ask Hollywood. Why do they keep making movies like Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Matrix, Indiana Jones, Harry Potter?

Oh, the sophisticates pretend to like those boring foreign films where people just talk and commit adultery, but the theaters are full of people seeing the Summer Blockbusters. Clarity. Right vs Wrong. Good vs Evil. The good guys are tough, honorable and victorious. And that's just how we like it. Americans like happy endings. If that makes us "unsophisticated", I ask, compared to WHOM? The French? The New York Glitterati? The West Coast "Anointed Ones"?

The Leftshit peasant bullies have succeeded in making our Knight uncool. And declared themselves a "moral authority".

And we let them. We get all puffed up and angry, arguing the minutiae of the peasant's upbringing, rights and responsibilities, the justice system, welfare. Nonsense! Absurdity! We should be laughing them off the debating platform, people! Engaging them just distracts us from our mission. And leaves our armor sitting rusty and tarnished.

You think the peasant likes the Knight any better if he climbs down into the mud to try to convince him his mission is a good one, asking permission, begging for respect? I say, pull your sword when he comes at you, and order him to get water for the horses. If you want, you can toss him a silver dollar on your way out of town.

Our people want pride and honor and heroes. They yearn to be Knights, to join the fight. But no one is sounding the trumpets. The drums are silent. We have been cowed by the opinion makers. We are afraid of appearing old-fashioned, lame, uncool. And the bright, hard flame of joyful action in the cause of Right is flickering hidden and small, each in its private soul, for fear of ridicule.

The first one to pull the sackcloth off his gleaming armor might be mocked by some officious, self-important ignoramuses. But it will dazzle the eyes and fill the hearts of the people. And the Knights among them will cast off their sackcloths as well, swelling the army of Light, and the Cockroach Kings we have allowed to rule so long will scurry back to where they belong: the cold darkness of the fringe.

We owe it to ourselves. And we owe it to our country. And we owe it to all those impoverished citizens who are starving to death for the meat of glory.

The Gunslinger