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My parents are Progressives. They first assumed when I parted ways that I was a Conservative, but I’m not. They had never heard of my mental worm before:

I want my government run privately, like a company town. Profits are derived from real estate value, which means they would enforce laws to secure property rights and protect me from violence, creating maximum economic output. Do it like Iran, Singapore, Switzerland, or David Friedmanland, whatever. These company towns would probably not be democracies but rather LLCs, competing for customers like stores. If people don’t like it, they go to a different company town. Regimes that force you to stay don’t compete very well, nor do ones that murder you. Market mechanisms would ensure regimes would generally act in the interest of consumers. This would be a vast improvement over what we currently have in the world.

My desire to restrict violence and property theft, plus the willingness to allow police the use of retractable batons to enforce the lew, makes a reactionary out of me, or more modestly a formalist. “Reactionary” conjures the image of crazed men with guns and beards. I don’t know any of these guys, though we could probably get along over a couple cold ones.

It’s like feudalism, except the serfs have cars, the rulers have the LLC, and there’s internet now. So it’s actually nothing like feudalism.

If I were a Conservative my parents could come packing. Their debate lexicon is geared to that, the lowest common denominator being white people who share their genes who still think the earth is 82 years old. I can’t blame them. That’s as good as the debate gets on CNN and NPR. My parents have no idea what to do with me because CNN and NPR don’t know what to do with me.

Since they can’t peg me this makes debates with them less debate and more brain surgery, where I try to get to the bottom of what the hell they really do believe. It seems to be a lot of anti-things, like how Sarah Palin is stupid or how Reagan spent too much money. Bush jokes still go around at every meal. This is all fun, but as part of a philosophy these anti-things take up too much emotional energy for me. Ultimately I do get down to their basics and it’s damned frustrating: My parents want the same crap I want. Obviously we value the same stuff, like family, non-violence, order, and work ethic. But they believe in using the Progressive, centrally-planned method to seek these ends, and they’re always surprised that the outcome resembles Detroit.

We’re a family of painters, but they paint with a razor blade and have to convince themselves that a torn up canvas is a piece of art.

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Written by xout

September 1, 2010 at 12:34 am

Posted in government, idea

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