by Astraeu Chakar, Ontology Editor
Never mind just who the Illuminati are or exactly how they operate (you may be sure that the popular pulp-fiction account of their doings by Robert Anton Wilson—who thought their headquarters were located under Dealey Plaza in Dallas—are, so to speak, dead wrong). Among their many odd, indeed almost other-worldly gifts is the weird ability to sense when a grossly errant human has at last got to the place of true repentance. Understand, we’re not talking the fake, superficial repentance that leads individuals into the waving arms and hallelujah-shouting bosoms of religious organizations that are every bit as exploitative and expedient as the ones the individual is repenting of. We’re talking real, down to the uttermost depths of the heart repentance. Which doesn’t happen often, but when it does that Illuminati are there, ready and waiting to welcome said individual into Megalomaniacs Anonymous. For proper understanding, one must mention scale. Size, here, doesn’t matter. Megalomaniacs come in all shapes, genders, and, most importantly, sizes. You have megalomaniacs who’ve tyrannized nobody except themselves. You have megalomaniacs who’ve tyrannized only one other person (a Significant Other perhaps, or an offspring). You have megalomaniacs who’ve tyrannized only a small group—a family, an office, a class, a regiment. You have megalomaniacs who’ve tyrannized larger groups—a church, a corporation, a school, a political subdivision. Then, of course, you have the big guns who tyrannized whole nations, and some who try to take over (or at least attack) the whole world. You will find a mix of all these types among the repentant membership of Megalomaniacs Anonymous. How do we, a minor Internet magazine, know this? Let’s just say, we have our sources… Recently, one of those sources, appalled at the over-the-top blind hubris of the present leadership of the United States, slipped us the following transcript. All in-coming members of MA, you see, must make a full confession of their misbehavior. These confessions are read out in full at group meetings and form the basis of lengthy discussions from which all members benefit. (Megalomaniacal misbehaviors differ only in the number of persons they affect. The types of misbehavior are uniform across the board.) Here’s where things get really weird. The Illuminati themselves are, how to say, a "trans-temporal" organization. That is to say: Within certain limitations they have some access to the future before it happens (so to speak) as well as, of course, total access to all past records. Because of the especially egregious nature of the misbehavior of this particular individual, our contact felt it imperative to venture into the future and retrieve the confession that he will—though Lord knows when—write when he himself becomes aware of just how far astray he has wandered and just how much damage he has done to both himself and the world. The reader will surely forgive slight editorial alterations we have made in order
to protect ourselves from vengeful responses under the so-called Patriot Act by those
still in power. by a Wholly Repentant Newcomer to Megalomaniacs Anonymous I was born to privilege, educated in privilege, and then set out to sail on the troubled seas of the world in a secure boat of privilege. That I frittered away a first-class education on the proverbial wine, women, and song mattered not a whit, because wherever by trusty boat of privilege carried me, I was met by friends of privilege always willing to lend a helping hand to one who could give them access to the highest levels of society and government. One thing led to another and before long my father and his rich and powerful friends had me well on the way to the highest office in my country. What had once been a fairly contested and elected position had, over decades of corrupt cronyism become a prize awarded to the craftiest manipulator of opinion and electoral results. Next thing I knew, there I was being sworn in to lead my nation. Surrounding myself with my father’s old buddies plus quite a few of my former school chums who like myself were children of privilege, I began to govern. I quickly learned that, though I had no experience and had to idea what to do or what to say, it didn’t matter. When you are head of the most powerful nation in the world, I learned, you can do or say anything. Of course the so-called intelligentsia will be appalled but (this I also learned quickly) they don’t matter. At all. The only people that mattered were my father’s friends, and they were ecstatic to have one of their own running the show, especially one who was cheerfully willing to follow just about any suggestions they might have about which way things should go. I also enjoyed immensely a wholly unexpected bonus of my bumbling speech and awkward demeanor: The Great Unwashed took to me in huge numbers. They, incredibly, heard only my tangled grammar and saw only my clumsy walk and my inappropriate smirks, and they knew in their hearts I was as uncomfortable in this world as they were. The result, to everybody’s surprise including mine, was that I became immensely POPULAR. The people not only approved of me. They LOVED me. Buoyed by this combination of support, behind the scenes from my father’s friends and publicly by the masses, I began actively consulting the Higher Power about what I should do to make the world a better place. I immersed myself daily in the sacred writings of my people. I instituted daily religious services throughout the government. I encouraged frequent consultative visits from the most popular holy men of our nation. Soon, during my periods of prayer and meditation I began to hear answers to my many, troubled questions. I found a new peace in my heart, knowing that whatever I undertook, God was on my side. One day, one of our most despicable enemies launched a surprise attack in which thousands of innocent citizens were killed. Armored with my faith and with words of support directly from On High, I led our nation into a world-cleansing response. The people, whose patriotism had been sorely offended by the surprise attack, were with me. My father’s friends, who stood to make hugely increased profits from my war in response, were with me. I led first one invasion, then another, always of course continuing daily to check in with my spiritual advisers and, after they would depart, when I was alone in my office I would read the holy writings and listen for further instructions from On High. Though many in the world outside my nation began to find our behavior first irritating and then to use highly insulting terms about us ("arrogant," "belligerent," and so on), my double base of support at home remained solid and secure. Things were going swimmingly—I even won re-election, until I experienced the first traumatic shock of my privileged life: God slapped me. Hard. He visited a great natural disaster on my country. On MY country. I couldn’t believe it. How could He do this to ME? After all I had done for HIM? Many people died, and to my great astonishment, the survivors blamed ME for 1) not having preventive measures in place for such a catastrophe and then 2) for not helping after the disaster! What fools! Though I am certainly master of the earth, the idiots cannot see that there are some things over which even I have no control. Other disasters followed, some of which swallowed up beloved members of my own family, and following my removal from power and banishment to my remote estate, I slowly came to see, as years passed, the folly of my unbridled pride that had led me to visit all manner of evil and inequalities on my long-suffering subjects, who now revile me and my once near-divine reputation incessantly and rightly. My name is Ozymandias and I am a megalomaniac.
[signed]
Ozymandias
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