This past half-century or so has seen the word love dragged through the mud. Once a queen; now a harlot.
No surprise that beneath this strain the word has lost its luster. Repeated blows have so flattened its majesty that it can mean anything; and thus, it means nothing. In the past few years, this emasculation has reached new depths.
LGBTQ+ agitprop has only buried love more deeply. What is it that they mindlessly chant? Love is love. Love has been invoked so promiscuously as to make it a veritable lie. This gives cognitive dissonance a new dimension. Imagine groups in 1943 reacting to Auschwitz and Dachau by joining in marches screaming “more love.”
Hardly a solution to the Final Solution. More like Alice Through the Looking Glass. Such is this latest folly, reminiscent of those drug-addled hippies in 1967 placing daisies in the barrels of the guns of National Guard soldiers.
In the end, this gauzy antinomianism leads only to more death: the death of truth. If this be love, let us have no part of it.
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