Dear George,
As an imbiber of the sacred smoke, I am well aware that the ultimate goal of all addiction is self-destruction. It makes no difference whether the addiction is to booze, controlled substances or power. In this respect, you are unique among your peers, for you bring an addicts finesse to the intoxicating pursuit of power for power’s sake, which is the only power addiction understands. Its corruption stimulates you and makes you whole. Power, like the shot of whiskey or the fix, blankets inadequacy and erases all doubt.
This is why we love Euripides when he tells us, “Whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad.” And hubris is the sweetest madness; in its flight we rise above the rubble and ruin we leave in our wake.
It’s this madness that is so liberating. The spinning, turning, cart wheeling madness that elevates and lifts us up, giving us a brief taste of flight as the rush closes in around us. The loud roar of the cosmic wind rushing past our ears drowns out our screams of despair as we plummet towards our destruction. We love this frenzy, this wild, madcap don’t give a damn frenzy that precedes the fall, the fall that is our final flight from the darkness that is at the very core of our soul.
As we fall, the frenzy of our destructiveness increases as if the very act of destruction will somehow be our salvation, as if by destroying others we stave off our own destruction. This is our faith, George. We are flaming angels falling from heaven, slashing and cutting with our swords, still slashing as the charred flesh falls from our bones. Far better for us the spectacular suicide than life’s numbing blandness. And if we can take a country with us, so much the better!
Your admirer,
Belacqua Jones
9:34:51 PM 
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