Last night (and well into the morning), Chris and I discussed the nature of the world and humankind's future therein—paradoxically, the subject at once uplifts my spirits and lays waste my hopes. In the end, I regard the future as I believe everyone should: with a healthy mixture of anticipation and dread. Optimists might point to the burgeoning—indeed, heartily flourishing—entity of Technology, which, as it progresses in vast bounds toward increasingly inconceivable zeniths of efficiency and awe-inspiring capabilities, spreads its tentacles of influence the world round, slowly constricting until all the planet is under its terrible and tyrannical rule. (No, I am not in league with the Unabomber; I am not against technology, per se, at all—I merely recognise what Albert Einstein did so many decades ago: "It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our humanity.") Nevertheless, optimists have good reason to do so, as technology truly shall define the future and bring wonders to the world never before comprehended. One need only look at what was accomplished between 1900 and 2000 to understand that we cannot possibly fathom what the future holds in store, as technology not only multiplies and metastasizes at an alarming rate, but builds upon its own foundations constantly, ever-evolving and improving itself before our very eyes.

Yet those hopeful masses who do look to the future for salvation from the hardships of life, for a world in which the cancers that fester deep within the subversive flesh of existence—war, famine, disease, crime, hatred—are but memories, for a vision of society from the pages of Plato's Republic and Sir Thomas More's Utopia; forsooth, those people whose eyes gleam with Hope, that most cruel of deceivers and prevaricators, merely delude themselves. Their most admirable dreams and aspirations, like so many meagre ships in the storm-wracked harbour of Optimism, shall be dashed upon the jutting rocks of Reality and founder in the turbid waters of Despair. For the future promises neither the glorious light of enlightenment and erudition to banish the shadows of Ignorance which have fallen upon the earth; nor an end to hatred and bigotry, weeping sores on the blemished and besmirched skin of this nation; nor a return to the morality and sense of well-being whose untimely demise the elder generations of today bemoan, as the "Good Ol' Days" give way to an age of apathy, debauchery, and infinitely varying degrees of rectitude. Indeed, it is almost certain that in the coming decades, what few last bastions of traditional social mores that remain shall inevitably, inexorably fall to an ironic dictator: Freedom.

In a society in which abortions can be "right" but wearing animal products considered "wrong," who can honestly say that the rigidity and clear concept of propriety which characterised decades past shall ever return? (I am hardly an advocate for censorship or any other such foolishness meant to impose morals on knowledge, which should remain unfettered and free from the shackles of society, but do recognise that the consistent ideals and beliefs of, say, the Victorian Age, did their part to contribute to that period's sense of "decency.") Once upon a time, there were only Right and Wrong, embodiments of those ultimate, archetypal entities known as Good and Evil—and the entire world was viewed through a black-and-white lens: either something were an aspect of Absolute Right, or it was Absolute Wrong. In modern times, attempting to foist any such ideas upon society would be folly, and, indeed, likely dangerous to one's health. The world's mindset has shifted from Right and Wrong (n.b. the capital letters and powerful bold typesetting) to a multitude of lowercase italic (even less assertive than normal text) rights and wrongs, each according to one's own interpretation, one's culture, even to one's personal circumstances. Although certain institutions obviously rely upon the concept of such ethical standards as Absolute Right and Absolute Wrong—Law is a prime example—it is nevertheless impossible to clearly distinguish what is "right" or "wrong" any longer.

Which brings me to the pith of this scathing denunciation. It is my opinion, and not an ill-founded one, that America is the modern Roman Empire, its citizens fat and lazy, sated and complacent as they glut themselves on delusions of invincibility and grandeur. As the sole superpower in the world, seemingly indomitable, America is given to underestimation and overindulgence; it seems nothing can dispel this feeling that "nothing can touch us," which was only temporarily upset by the utterly humbling attack of September 11. One need only look so far as the twin institutions of fast food and reality television to see that our downfall is upon us—decadence and devolution have finally caught up with America, and no one seems to give a whit as they stuff Big Macs down their greedy gullets and sit down for such "quality programming" as Are You Hot?.

We look back at the Roman Empire—which fell to its knees because it became complacent and increasingly obsessed with comfort and entertainment—and say, "Oh, mercy me! They fed people to the lions! How atrocious! Certainly we will never stoop to that level—we're far too civilised." Yet how long is it until When Animals Attack! and Man vs. Beast are simply not enough to hold the non-existent attention spans of those teeming masses of mediocrity who live in America, and television producers decide that to boost ratings they need to up the ante? Desensitisation is a disturbing trend in today's society: just as kings of yore slowly accustomed their bodies to poison by drinking an infinitesimal amount more every day, so do people today adapt to sex, violence, and immorality without even realising that they have numbed themselves to those corruptions.

Nothing shocks people anymore; television executives recognise that fact, and are always looking for something that will galvanise Americans into watching their shows, whether it be mindless and reckless stupidity and violence (Jackass); appalling and amusing lifestyles (The Anna Nicole Show, The Osbournes, The Surreal Life); or simply the morbid fascination America has with voyeurism, and seeing what people do when no one appears to be looking (Big Brother, Triggerhappy TV). Americans are always looking for something bigger, better, sexier, more extreme, more offensive, more taboo, bristling with innuendo and gratuitous violence: more entertaining. America is, indeed, the modern Roman Empire: teetering under the crushing weight of its own arrogance and avarice, spiraling into oblivion with every utterance of "Would you like fries with that?" and "In the most dramatic Rose Ceremony ever!", oblivious to the vultures of Decadence and Degradation that circle overhead, scavengers who shall soon pick at the remains of what was once a great and powerful nation.

[Exit Orpheum.]