You all know Miguel de Cervantes. He was the cheeky chappie that wrote Don Quixote in 1605, making fun of the whole medieval romance genre.
I agree. That was really meanie-jelly-beanie. You literary snobs are always trying to deep-six the latest genre. I mean, sci-fi, fantasy: who needs it, darling. How about a bit of plotless James Joyce for breakfast?
Anyway, Cervantes was pretty harmless. Despite his fun and games we are still having great fun reading about King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. Not to mention Frodo and Co. And, apart from Parsifal (as in Sir Percival) Richard Wagner spent his whole career unearthing Nordic and Teutonic myths. Although, according to the late Roger Scruton, Wagner recast the pagan myths in a post-Christian mold designed by German philosopher Feuerbach and then changed his mind and used the mold designed by Schopenhauer. Fun!
But, dear God. We need our modern Cervantes now. To write the uplifting story of Don Qui-wokey, and his heroic battle against the windmills, er, the pipelines, of Keystone XL.
See that's the way I experience the left's Activism Culture. It is like a medieval romance. Back then, the medieval romance enabled dumb scions of the barony to imagine themselves as noble knights saving helpless maidens from dragons and evil castellans, and searching for the Holy Grail. Now we have the mindless romances celebrating the delta-minus rich-kid morons bravely trying to stop capitalism in its tracks with Heroic Acts of Activism against the Polluters! Peaceful Protests against the Fossil Fuel Companies! Marches Against White Supremacy! And OMG, fracking is polluting the water supply! Not.
I fear, alas, that we are some years, maybe decades, before the American people will help us racist-sexist-homophobes send the systemic racist climate Don Qui-wokeys to where the sun don't shine. Because apart from us bitter-clinger deplorables, the rest of America is either embarrassed by populist nationalism, or enjoying their bennies as Little Darlings of the ruling class. Oh, and don't forget the Wokey Allies.
Only thing is that if I were to tell the story I would forget Soy Qui-wokey and make the story into a remake of the Parsifal legend, with Soy Parsifal -- the pure fool -- starting out as the child of an activist lesbian couple. The young lad naturally yearns, as xe plays mostly-peaceful-protest games with xis non-gendered pals, to get to activism school and take xis place in the glorious community of social justice activists bending the arc of history towards justice. Oh the glorious day when xe begins his first internship at the Climate Justice Matters NGO funded by tech billionaire George Porous! Oh, the joy of the day when xe has finishing xis "trained Marxist" training, and knelt before xer Marxist trainer and got xis Soyship in the Global Active-hood of Pajama-Persons and can lead xer first real Mostly Peaceful Protest.
One day, years later, he is driving his electric car in the forest on the way to a protest against an oil pipeline, reciting the chants he will lead, when he accidentally runs over a swan crossing the road. The local yokel Gurnie O'Mans curses him out for a fool. Having stopped his electric car -- whose battery is getting dangerously low -- he observes a number of bedraggled men by the side of the road. Who are these bums, he asks Gurnie? These men, Soy Parsifal, were once frackers, but they lost their jobs ten years ago in the first days of the Biden administration, and because of the shame of being fossil fuel workers, have been canceled and cannot get jobs in the soy economy.
Well, that's a start. We'd have to have a Kundry, Soy Parsifal's liberal activist mother who is now a sour and angry cat lady. Whatabout the Fisher King, Am-trump-as, wounded by the impeachment spear flung by the wicked witch Soya Nancy? A chorus of feminist flower maidens? And whatabout the evil magician Klingsor? What is he up to?
Of course, before the activist Soy Parsifal can heal the wounded Am-trump-as he must learn the error of his ways, and discover how activism is a path of cruelty, a Trail of Bloody Tears, that has killed more people in history than all the Genghis Khans and Hitlers -- put together. He must renounce activism forever, and bring his angry cat lady mom Kundry back into the light. That would be a story!
Then, and then only can Soy Parsifal eat his first meal of meat, and renounce his Soyish ways, and come to the castle of King Am-trump-as, and heal the king's wound, and light the light in the eyes of the MAGA faithful once more, and Make America Great Again. Once more.
"Ain't I a stinker!" ©1950 Bugs Bunny.
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