Boiling Frogs and Salami Slicing

by Hugh Mungus

All the power [the State] has is what society gives it, plus what it confiscates from time to time on one pretext or another; there is no other sources from which State power can be drawn. Therefore every assumption of State power, whether by gift or seizure, leaves society with so much less power.

- Our Enemy, the State

The caldron bubbled, burping steam. Green and wrapped in warts, the frog floated stoically amid the boiling water.

Was this an uber brute, able to withstand being simmered in its own skin-?!

Without warning, Verde Fantastico flipped on its back, more dead than freedom in "America."

A blind porn actress at the center of a bukkake, the terminated toad hadn't seen anything comin'. One moment it was luxuriating; the next, it was a carcass.

But that's the way it happens. Slowly and imperceptibly, right up until the end, of course. Fuckers don't drop ya' into a vat of scalding solution. You'd jump out if they did, right?


Instead, they present you with a relaxing bath. Once immersed, they gradually increase the heat over a protracted period. In this way, the frog doesn't suspect a thing.

And neither do you.

One minute you're in some schoolyard sandbox, forcin' Ken dolls to autofellate their non-existent cocks; the next, you're takin' it up the ass from bureaucracy. It went from "safe at home with mom and dad," to a paper tiger IRS eviscerating your scrotum.

The change was undetectable, wasn't it?

And that was only the beginning. As a "grown up," you'd maladroitly traverse a mine field of mini strokes, while the dick inside your anus mercilessly drilled deeper. All the while, you'd pretend you were happy, fulfilled, and actually doing something; anything at all!

You'd recall when "a man could say whatever he wanted," but nowadays, they have laws against that type of thing.

In actuality, government had never "allowed" anyone freedom of speech. You'd just been too busy playing frog to notice, as "authority" increased the heat, half a degree, every few months. One mandate "magically" forbade you from doing "this," while a year later, another banned you from doing "that."

It had transpired so gradually, hadn't it? A threat here; a commination there. Never simultaneously, of course. All over a lengthy time frame, until one day the water around you was scalding, and you were on the brim of extinction.

It's hasn't been conclusively determined whether one can boil a frog in this manner. If that's what you're concerned about, though, you've missed the point like a free throw shooter with no eyes, no hands, and no fucking basketball.

You're the boiling frog, chillin', as self-appointed "authority" incrementally tightens the shackles with which you allow it to confine you.

Pedro pressed the knife into the cured salami. A hunk of meat product detached from the phallic loaf, and that much less remained of the encased pork.

Edacious, he engulfed the thin medallion of animal flesh, repeating the process three times, until he was satiated.

He then produced a sheaf of parchment, in which he neatly wrapped the remainder of the sausage, and stored it within the clanking confines of his ratty icebox.

Mold thrived along a crack in the wall here in Tucson. Summer in these parts was more brutal than watching George Soros' dehydrated penis enter anything.

Pedro would circumvent expensive trips to the local beanery, by performing this carnivorous ritual thrice daily. Methodically adhering to this regimen, he'd devour his way through one salami stick per week.

Doing so, he'd practice a sinister tactic employed by governments the planet over, in order to disenfranchise our entire species. It's a stratagem known as salami slicing, and its premise is as simple as it gets.

Detach diminutive portions of a salami stick from their whole. Do so on a regular basis, and soon enough you'll have dismantled the entire loaf.

Akin to salami slicing, we allow government to steadily chop bits of us away, until there's nothing left of who we are. This process is perpetrated incrementally; a little freedom here, a little there, until one day we realize none of it remains.

A similar version of this strategy is known as sorites paradox, and it goes like this:

One at a time, you remove grains from a sand pile. It takes a while, but eventually that heap is no more. Since you disperse granules without order, when you're through, there's no sign the mound ever existed.

At what point does the pile cease to be such? At what moment in this subtractive process is the mound no longer a mound? After removing how many parts does the edifice fail to be what it once was, and become something different?

Was our society ever free, or had it always been incarcerated? Had it never been that pile of sand we fallaciously believed it was? When it comes to the present version of "America" - "America 2.0," if you will - so many people invoke sorites paradox:

"The current regime is corrupt! It's nothing like what America used to be."

"America was sold to the corporations decades ago. This is exactly what the founding fathers were attempting to warn us against."

"This isn't America anymore! This is a corporate coup d'etat. We have to restore our freedom; our liberty!"

I'm gonna puke! Lemme off this fucked-up ferris wheel!

So many curse present regimes, asserting "America" has been hijacked by thieves. But the "United States" was never what you were brainwashed to believe it was. This fictional region has never been a beacon of democracy; a safe haven for freedom.

How could it have been?

The make-believe ideology of the "United States" was created by money-hoarding slave owners. How can you rationally conclude whatever this group produced was anything but something that served them?

You've docked a ship in a harbor. Since you aren't sailing the vessel, but it still resides in the water, it's exposed to the elements. Over time, portions of the boat rot.

In response, you replace these individual boards, planks and sails, until - after decades - none of the original ship remains. The entire boat is comprised of completely different parts than it had originally been.

The question arises: Is this the same ship it was in its nascent state?

Say the vessel is named the Grey Anus. Since none of the original craft remains, can you honestly refer to this new boat as the Grey Anus?

This mind fuck is known as the Ship of Theseus, and it leads to yet another enigma:

As technology advances, you're able to refurbish the rotted pieces of the original ship - which you've kept in storage. As such, you do so, and rebuild the authentic boat.

Now, you've got two vessels: the refurbished version, and the one built from new pieces.

Which is the real Grey Anus?

First off, people presuppose "America" exists. It - akin to every other "commonwealth" - doesn't. Fly above the planet in a commercial airliner, and gaze down. You'll find no borders around any "country."

Ask yourself how a "nation" can exist one minute, and cease to, the next. That doesn't make sense. One "country" conquers "another," and that second "nation" instantly vanishes?! How is that possible?!

The land upon which the routed "country" resided hasn't changed! The lakes and rivers within that "nation" remain the same. The only thing that has altered is belief. Now people conclude there's something new there...even though there isn't.

Second, if "America" doesn't exist, than neither do copies of it.

You awaken to more snorting than an active coke party in the Hollywood Hills.

The tent is as dark and frigid as a Michelle Obama inspirational speech. If it's this cold inside, you don't wanna contemplate how soul-freezing it must be outside.

Around you, the shelter agitates, some external force acting upon it.

As your eyes acclimate to the scant illumination, you're able to discern the source of the sound. A gigantic nose is entering your tent. In the pre-dawn, you've discerned an enormous pair of nostrils; beneath them, an upturned mouth, replete with square, yellow teeth - each the size of a Triscuit.

To some slippery-suited businessman - traveling for the first time to this arid region - such would seem the vestiges of a nocturnal nightmare. Since you've been in the desert for months, however, you quickly deduce what's happening.

The nose pushes further into the confines, exposing a camel's head, to which it's attached. The head produces a neck sprouting from a body.

Too groggy to care, you watch as the dromedary - seeking warmth - incrementally enters, until the entire beast is sharing the hogan with you.

You'd rather not room with a creature that reeks of piss and shit. Too lazy to do anything about it, however, you gaze on as the camel slowly takes advantage of your lassitude.

Had you been awake, things would've been different. Had the camel attempted to enter the tent in one overt act, you would've stopped it.

However, this was a slow, deliberate attack. As a result, the vertebrate achieved its goal.

Such is otherwise known as creeping normality, or the camel's nose. If you want to implement a mandate, to which you're certain the populace will object, do so incrementally. Introduce decrees that slowly, stealthily, strip the population of their "rights," and eventually you'll achieve your directive.

You hunger to cull the masses, and cripple the population. If you attempt to do so in one maneuver, you'll be met with opposition too great to overcome.

Initiate death by a thousand cuts - vanquishing not by one incursion, but multitudinous, smaller onslaughts, imperceptible to the masses. The proletariat is conquered without recognition from whence, nor how, such occurred.

A thousand small lacerations - each draining blood - will just as readily kill as one, massive lesion.

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