The presumption of the Visiting Nurse/Manager/Supervisor:
„Oh we all love your father’s stories.“
„We“—you phoney!
What do you know about my father?
--OR me?
What do you know of my father’s ruthless authoritarianism,
his worship of the upper classes----generals and merchant-tyrants, robber barons and mass murderer-Presidents?
What do you know of my father’s youth?
Or his father’s life?
You know nothing.
What do you know of the events he describes,
or their significance?
What do you know of imperialist wars,
or the sacrifice of lives in pursuit of domination?
In all probability you do not even acknowledge their existence.
What do you know of my father's unconscious absorption of lies and propaganda?----all necessary for survival in a flourishing empire.
What do you know of the shame of poverty and the desperate flight from public shaming?
What do you know of civilization when you yourself are forced to lie every day in order to survive?
And, yet you speak with the assuredness of one who knows.
Disruption, imposition, arrogance:
These are the tools of the nurse practitioner.
In a country where everyone has been bought and sold for too low a price.
Where misery is dressed up in fancy but cheap dress, paraded into the market-place and placed under the spot-light,
which shines only on the front of the apparition,
while the worms crawling on the back remain in the dark.
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