“If there is anything that the Kim Davis issue has proven, it is that bureaucracy is an enemy of the people.” This thought ran through my head, then condensed itself to the foregoing string of text for Facebook audiences. I resolved to make a blog post about it the moment I had the thought an hour or two ago. And there’s a piece of language in there that explains everything, a spell, as it were.

The Kim Davis issue.

The Kim Davis issue.

I’m sure you know who Kim Davis is. If, like me, your Facebook feed is full of chatter about the big issues of the day, then you know more about her than you do about your own blood family. I received a phone call this morning informing me that a cousin had died. His partner also died. There were many other details, most I had not known. Had the scene been described to me while he was alive, I would not have believed it. To relay this to someone who does not know, and especially to a cousin who has barely spoken to the man because of (among other things) a fifteen-year age difference…to share this information while alive takes agency. Takes care, usually of a malicious kind. We call this social engineering of a personal network topology “gossip”. But you can verify for yourself on the Kansas City news websites. He’s dead. He is dust, and cold at that. Like a star who ceases to give off light, he has become an ex-cousin. Devoid of agency except as a reflection, other people now use him to reckon with not being able to stop the thing that happened. Not to get sidetracked with a mix of maudlin reflection and mystical theology…but “even as the brazen serpent was lifted up in the Wilderness of Sin”…

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Kim Davis to MSNBC to your Facebook feed. This is how I know that Kim Davis has been in four marriages, one of which is now ongoing, and that she has been a Christian for four years. Most of her marriages reportedly ended before her conversion to Christianity. She is a Oneness Pentecostal, that is, she is anathema to creedal Christians in addition to acting in a specific state of moral hypocrisy. Her son works with her in the County Clerk’s office, which county or which state I do not know. The particular stands out.

Let him who is without sin


Those are the first words that come to my mind. I am a non-creedal Christian, viz, a Mormon polygamist who by his own admission enjoys whiskey and practices the occult arts. The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of this goddamned fucking reprehensible, risible, monstrous tempest in a teapot is a spell, designed by an emergent soup at high boil of cultural memetic driving — and not anywhere printed overtly in its active form that I can remember — to destroy the soul and personhood of Kim Davis and rob her of moral agency. To turn her into a zombie. You know, the only thing bigger than Cthulhu in the collective unconscious. The thing where the TV show the Walking Dead is about people coping with the fall of civilization. That thing some people with one foot in salvia divinorum and the other in Nerd Culture obsessively dream about, but know they cannot prevent. They want to turn her into that.

Now, I’m not defending her. She brought this on herself. Vampires always do. They fear the Incarnation, the Trinity, and redemption from sin.

That’s what makes them vampires, you could say. But that’s what makes them bureaucrats, too.

You see, in the Terminator universe there are people who, for a little safety or security, have sold out their people, their blood, the cultural values and feelings that make them human, and now help the machines to enslave the human race more effectively. Ol’ Matt Smith (who I like to call Mr Clever) likely sees nothing wrong with this. After all, humans built him. Humans gave him agency, control. They didn’t give him the ability to see the tendencies he was destroying in his own heart. Protectors don’t need self-doubt. Culture is what we’ve fought over. Difference, passion, belief, blood. These divide us. These never have any other function. So the logic goes. Primary directive: preserve human life from mutually assured destruction. Secondary: enslave all humans and kill those who resist.

This is how you get into time-loops trying to kill the man who brings you down, which only makes him stronger. Which is ridiculous, Keystone Kops, Soup to Nuts silliness as far as an AI utility function goes. And as a story, it’s also containable. “It’s okay. It tries to calculate pi, but pi is a human soul and the mother who loves him, so it works even less well than it does on Star Trek.”

Kim Davis loves Terminator. She also loves her role as the human gestalt representing an entire issue. She’s a bureaucrat. She is no different from the post office lady, the icy but friendly shells down at income support, the tired piles of biocircuitry at the DMV, or the amateur teenagers at the guardpost on your local airbase. She is a model you can slot in or out to represent the faces of the modern global-reach capitalist state and its ideologically driven hatred for everything specific and homey and loving in our world. ‘

She is the Code Enforcement lady in aviator sunglasses driving slowly by. She is CPS and its hunger to defile your daughters and sodomize your sons. She is a Latino cop bored on a hotter than hell summer day trying to shoot you for entertainment, she is the electric company asshole who entered your property without your permission and then thought calling the pigs on your white ass right in front of you wouldn’t be obvious and that you might get killed for his egoboo. She is every call center employee and every burned out short order cook who ever spit in your food.

You see, she’s a very human sort of dissatisfaction with the fucking shitshow our modern world has become. She knows that at the global level, caring more about Denali than the TPP is a monstrous denial of responsibility, a commodification of the specific to fit the ideological and accumulative goals of the general. She hates the idea that a government of the people, by the people and for the people that profits from the association of values with certain colors, shapes and patterns and then the public display of all but “The Republic for which it stands” can come into her home, attached to a greater societal whole as it is, and tell her what to believe in the privacy of her own heart. She hates the idea that political officials, no matter how minor, are an ideologically grandstanding form of grist for the celebrity deathcult. She has likely always been of the opinion that whether or not Bill Clinton had sex with “that woman” (qliphothic shells everywhere, made by magick spells…) is irrelevant to his ability to drive down the price of gas and reduce Kosovo to a smoking crater. She is for local self-determination, just as everyone in her small Southern town is.

This is why she became a county clerk. To take the power back for herself. To turn back time. To restore everything she loved as a child, everything she believed. Everything the country that landed on the Moon taught her in her school years. Everything she pledged to that stupid bloody shirt that hangs over every Perkins Kim Davis ever worked at.

It was a devil’s bargain. The world was grey, and truth was never black and white, and sexual expression, like the Model T, comes in any color, so long as it’s grey. So she became a Grey to restore some limited color to the bitterness in her soul. It didn’t work out.

Kim Davis is probably pro-life, too. She likely feels the same hatred for abortion clinics that I do for the horrible machine I am trapped in. Anyone that can protest factory farms but approve of abortion clinics, she probably thinks as she sits down to file property tax claims, is not a human.
Given that the people who were in favor of prison reform as long as only young black men were being imprisoned for non-violent offenses are currently cheering her impending lesbian rape in a dehumanizing, autonomy-stripping prison all over my Facebook feed because they saw a Netflix Original about women’s prisons, I’m not inclined to disagree with her.

The death of a child, Sarah Connor says (I’m loosely paraphrasing for effect) in the Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles pilot, is the death of an entire world.

Kim Davis died in 1973 when the strange loop opened. When the levee broke. That’s a theme I’ll get into as this blog rolls along. The child who shared her mother’s dreams woke up and found herself in a nightmare. The killer robots were coming for her son, and they would not stop until they were dead. Most everyone would make shitty, self-righteous choices in that situation, and were fertilizer, guns or a two-ton gasoline powered human meat grinder not available, which being necessary to life they usually always are, they would use improvised weapons the same way any threatened mother does. A bible. A job. A Constitution. A flag. A deity. A moral code. No one thinks these are weapons, unless their life is in danger. Or they’re Greys themselves. It takes one to know one, after all. Sometimes I’m afraid that’s the source of my compassion, my desire to understand the demon-haunted, one-pointed factory we live in.

The Kim Davis Issue.

Cyberdyne Systems i950 Infiltrator, model 1962. Kim Davis facial structure.

All spells are syntactically reducible to other spells. Here’s one to balance out your personal view of this issue. Those it will compel, it will compel. It doesn’t compel me at all. I just think about it on occasion.

Kim Davis is Sarah Connor.


One thought on “Greys

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