The inspiration for this essay occurred when I was walking at night in a strip mall on my way to purchase food from a fast-food restaurant. Under the neon lights of store signs, I passed puddles collected in the cracked pavement of the parking lot. The puddles no longer reflected the brilliant stars but a harsh neon glow. It distorted my reflection, a man dressed in the garbs of capitalism, a blurry image. I reflected then on the nature of community and family and how, in centuries past, we would share a meal together, the wife and daughters cooking, the entire house filled with the aroma of love and food. Now I walk alone, under not soft candlelight, but harsh LED, to receive food not made by familiar hands but by strangers. It was raining and I was being drenched. Somehow, I preferred the rain. It was natural, real, unlike these modern edifices with their angry, non-feeling veneers. The rain was alive. The surroundings were not.

Inside the restaurant, it was gray with splashes of color. Green and yellow are used sparingly, as if the painter reluctantly only added these colors because of the company logo. The color was a glimpse of humanity peering out from underneath corporate sterilization. Only the logo and the company were in color as if beckoning the customer. One has the feeling that if the painter had it his way, all would be gray and black. But what kind of painter only paints in one shade? They moved us down the line like cattle. Strangers preparing my food. I would never see them again. There is no connection, no permanency. Even the stars in the sky, though apparently isolated, remain in place, tethered to their orbital systems. The money switches hands. The food is now mine. No words were exchanged aside from the obligatory come again, a verbal encouragement to satiate insatiable capitalism. The transaction is soulless, an exchange of superficial currency, with no emotional depth to the action of eating and preparing food as in years past.

I ate alone, accompanied by more electronic lights. The food tasted artificial and fake. The utensil was plastic. My bedroom computer screens filled my room with a harsh blue, illuminating my colorful paintings of the past, of heroes dead. Napoleon, Socrates, Daniel. The blue light blended oddly with the colorful portrayals of the past, scenes of war, and human achievement. They were speaking silently, as if to say, here we stand in human memory, immortal and enduring. The marble columns of Roman imagination, the massive naval fleets of Wellington and Napoleon forces, Berlin in all its tapestry—so much color, so much realness. But who in our modern times holds a candle to these heroes? Does anyone stand not in the shadows of the past but rise above the ashes of modernity to declare themselves a beacon in our neon-drenched world? Or do we only exist to support a machine that, if, for only a second, we are negligent or forgetful, weak or sick, crushes us underfoot, bloody and poor?

But we don’t erect monuments anymore—we tear them down. And when we try to climb above the sewers, we are dragged lower. The conformists, the non-individuals, pull us beneath the refuse of their mediocrity, drown us in their ignorance, their consumerist mindset, and their inhumanity. What monuments have we even constructed in our hearts that have not been dismantled by the progressives? Washington, Jefferson, Columbus, and Lee were all destroyed! Their memory crumbled just like their statues that were toppled and crashed violently to the pavement. Even innocent figures like Aunt Jemimah were removed from syrup bottles—madness. And look at our cultural icons that died a humiliating death—Luke Skywalker, Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Halo, Call of Duty. Hollywood has desecrated their images, turning heroes into villains and masculinity into weakness.

I as the writer, though I speak into a void, am supposed to teach the reader something, yes? Have you learned anything yet, or should things be stated more explicitly? Are the greedy tendrils of liberalism and capitalism tightening around your soul not felt strongly enough? Then I will say this: The name of this thesis is Attrition of the Soul because the soul of the United States has been rotted out. Children do not honor heroes such as McCarthy or Churchill. They idolize celebrities, pop stars, athletes, and streamers. Their source of inspiration is shallow, and therefore, so is their imagination and creativity. They do not dream beyond Earth’s horizon to outer space as we did in previous generations. They explore not the depth of their own creative potential by exploring the great works of writers and painters past. They wander circuitously in virtual online spaces, learning nothing of true significance. They attach themselves to popularity, to the trends, to sameness, suppressing individuality lest they fall outside of social acceptance.

Boys dream not of conquering but of a misguided and wrong sense of “equality” and “fairness” that dismantles masculinity and promotes soft femininity, making us vulnerable to external threats. Girls dream no longer of building a familial legacy and cultivating love and earnestness but rather of an obsession with materialism and consumerism. Instant gratification and sex have poisoned their hearts—these are not women but a muddy, blurry vestige of what a woman used to signify—loyalty, kindness, softness, forever stained and tainted. Where do you find inspiration if not in greatness? Is it found in a paycheck, a soulless television program, which are mockeries of American culture, of tradition, of God? Is it found in a celebrity or in a social media application?

The inspiration of the paintings surrounding me as I write this essay provide an answer to these musings. Even though my physical appreciation for them is limited to a visual sensation, my mind falls into them, and I explore their depths, history and philosophy, courage and bravery, igniting sparks within my consciousness, lighting my dark mind with a soft, earnest glow that not even the neon lights can rob me of.

Let’s take a minute to reflect, then. There is no more inspiration in this country or maybe this world. We must dig through the annals of history to find some semblance of raw masculinity, of displayed bravery and courage in the face of overwhelming adversity. Think of Waterloo or Alexander, or Persia and Rome. Could men nowadays conquer such great territories if they cannot even conquer their own minds and hearts? But they are not to blame. The world has been darkened by coordinated efforts to dismantle God and masculinity. It is only through historic illumination that we may move in the right direction. Even the Irish know this, lighting a candle in the windows of their houses as a beacon for returning families, as if to say, follow the soft glow of candlelight—fire, which is often destructive, now transformed through human hands into an element of service, of love. We tamed fire, the harsh red glow subdued, turned into an instrument of love—red not destructive, but a powerful force of love and life that guides the individual. But what occurs when our candlelight is a pulsating neon eyesore in the window of a shop that screams open? If we have no candle in the window or no one to light it for us, how can we find our way back home? This essay is a candle in our dimming human consciousness; at the borders of our vision, the interchange between the sharp contrast of cold darkness and the demanding neon of modernity creeps toward the center of our vision, blinding us with its temptation of tobacco sign and vape sign, its promise of quick and easy food, or even love for the night. But underneath the artificial light is an artificial love, artificial happiness wrapped in gelatin, or a soulless human connection between man and prostitute.

I consider myself blessed. In my mind, around the hearth I call memory, I sit with both sets of grandparents that, as a child, I was fortunate enough to have grown up with. Their stories are painted on the wall lit by a fireplace, a colorful tapestry of their lives and achievements, their sacrifices for family. In those moments, I learned about our family legacy, the sacrifices made for my existence. And they taught me, in those tender moments which now make the harshness of those damn neon lights so violent, that love is sacrifice. The greater degree of which determines the extent of that love. So love is not transaction but giving? What a strange thought in our hyper-consumerist world where everything is transaction—the gas station, the grocery store, the restaurant, even relationships now in many senses are a transaction.

Oh, but what is that in my memory, filtering through an open vent in my consciousness? That is the aroma of the food they would make for us, grandmothers working hard at the oven and stove preparing dinner and lunch for us, our large family. But why? What did they receive in return? Why, we did not think like this because we were not capitalist slogs. Love and obligation are why they did it. And as I grew older I would sacrifice for them. We were a pocket of humanity in a world of concrete and asphalt. Our family was a unique and lovely architecture against the modern, oppressive block buildings and fluorescent, cold, and hollow linoleum hallways.

I do not like my society, and I think the bias is obvious now. I do not like it because I was not raised to succeed in capitalism. My ideas are foreign to many—I count wealth by friends and family, not by numbers on a banking profile or a paycheck. But it is difficult to live in such a way when everyone else pursues earthly, not spiritual gold.

Could capitalism and liberalism really be the cause for inspiration’s death? Not exactly. We consider inspiration, creativity, and imagination as qualities innate in every one of us. The problem, though, for the determinist such as myself is that not everyone dares dream beyond the self-declared horizon of their potential. Maybe they flirt at the orange border of their vision, but they never jump into the shadowy unknown. Because it takes courage to be inspired.

There is another problem, perhaps, that they lack the intellect. Intelligence is daring, audacious. It pushes the frontier of human achievement. It does not stagnate. It does not decay. It innovates. It charges onward. But in our world, intelligence stagnates—people do nothing with it. Fueled not by creativity or imagination, they pursue wealth blindly, which often demands their conformity. Yes, at the heart of the problem is dangerous conformity. People will often say and do whatever to make money to maintain their jobs. The artist does not challenge his boss; the photographer clicks away at the behest of the corporate suits. No one challenges, or if they do, the guillotine of capitalism will sever their wallet!

Part II

A clarification is needed. I do not hate capitalism. I love its potential but hate its current reality. In fact, a new, more appropriate term is needed for this economic system that we live in because it is neither capitalism nor socialism but a combination of both. Socialism is when the government controls the means of production—but in this case, it is the corporations that control 98% of our wealth. Socialism also inevitably demands conformity and a certain mode of living that is in alignment with societal values, although in our case, that would be corporate values. I’m sure you have heard the phrase, unfortunately that does not align with our corporate values and mission.

And let’s also not forget the myriad welfare programs and social subsidies, student loans, and other government-enforced operations that redistribute wealth from the haves to the have-nots. Credit card debt, student loan debt, medical debt, national debt, and bank forgiveness. The taxpayer is forced to compensate for the failure of the government and the non-taxpayer in the form of tax spikes. This is socialism but with extra steps.

There’s a bit of communism mixed in for good measure. Know what happens to a father that does not pay an arbitrarily set amount of alimony or child support? He is arrested and fined, placed in jail. The courts are not motivated by altruism for the protection of children. They want the child support paid so they can skim off the top, taking a percentage for legal fees and “transaction fees.”

There is another problem with this way of living, and it is because the entire idea of capitalism has a way of rotting the soul. People are valued by their perceived wealth, not so much for other good qualities such as kindness, self-sacrifice, courage. Though, when they are valued for such things, they are often taken advantage of for the purpose of obtaining even more capital. This is why you know people who have been cheated and ripped off by supposed friends and family.

The obsession for wealth has existed since time immemorial. The ultimate objective is the acquisition of resources to elevate one’s status. It is a repressed, sexual energy—a desire for dominance, control, power over others. Women have evolved to love money. Men have evolved to attract women. But if it weren’t for women, would men care so much for money? He would care for the basic necessities, of course, which he would procure violently if necessary. But for luxury items, flashy goods? He would not because there would be no woman to attract or to impress. Unless he was the kind of “man” who is overly infatuated with male approval. This type of “man” is more common nowadays. He is a woman dressed as a man. But real men do not care for such things as status outside of social approval, which translates into female validation. Don’t believe me? Does a man work 40, 60, or even 80 hours a week for fun or to support a family? Does a bachelor work the same amount for fun or to maintain a lifestyle that provides him with the necessary social acumen to obtain sexual gratification?

Capitalism is not inherently bad, but it plays upon the human spirit in negative ways, magnifying the bad and minimizing the good. The damn bureaucrats and lovers of wealth even capitalized heaven! The pastors and priests tell us we cannot buy our way into heaven while at the same time demanding tithes. They tell us that wealth will not allow us to pass through those Pearly Gates and Golden Roads and magnificent Palaces—all symbols, mind you, of earthly riches. When men dream of heaven, they dream evidently of unlimited wealth. The Muslims dream of wealth and many virgins. So, in the end, if capitalism is bad, it is only so because it is the manifestation of human invention, greed, lust, and power.

Part III

I grew up in a Church that existed before bureaucratization. That means it was not owned by corporate America—which most churches are nowadays. As a result, we discussed matters pertinent to our lives and to our society. In those days, evil was clearly identified: greed, government abuse of power.

And the environment made sense for our discussions as well, it being a traditionally made church with steeple and bell tower. Though, in the heart of Illinois it made little sense in the surroundings with the gas stations and chain fast food restaurants. Our Church stood as a memory of tradition in a foaming current of modernity.

And this was appropriate for a church. We lit candles near the altar. We worshiped the image of Christ and the cross. As children, we would sneak away to the bell and ring it. There was a strong sense of ancient communion. After service, we would gather in a homely, decorated room and converse over breakfast and prayer.

Though, eventually not even our memory of the past was safe from the invasive present of modernity. Corporations steamrolled our neighborhood. Goodbye, Church! Our lectures were replaced by corporate-sensitive and approved messages. The same old stories were told. Jesus as a fisherman. Jesus at the Last Supper. Judas’ betrayal. The same old song and dance. There was no longer any connection to our lives, really. Sure, love your neighbor as yourself, etc. But the pastors could not connect these ancient stories to our modern times in any meaningful way or they would lose their tax-exempt status for overstepping behavioral guidelines established both by the corporation that owned the Church and the government that offered the tax-exempt status.

We could not be controversial. We could not be true to our faith. Modernity had scored a victory against traditionalism, and I saw it occur before my very little eyes. As a child, I wondered, but mother and father, I don’t like Church now. They teach us the same stories. “Shh! Shh! These stories are approved by our generous overlords, corporate America, and Big Brother! Do not talk ill of our benefactors.” Sure, they did not really say these things yet. Maybe parents in the next four generations, once no semblance of tradition or community is left, will cower before the man who wields their paycheck. Already, they do this, though to a lesser extent.

And the corporate takeover all started by lust and greed. The pastor had cheated on his wife. His daughter had attacked me violently, breaking my arm. Mind you, I was five. His wife was stealing from the Church also, breaking a vow to both family and God. At such a young age, I became disillusioned by our Churches. Reflecting on my past experiences, I am grateful for them because I now can pierce the façade of religion.

Now you might say I am biased—yes. Though in a good way. In recent memory the fact that people are biased has been used as an argument to forgo their opinions without even considering if such opinions are valid. You say I am biased, maybe? But I argue against such a word. I am simply a man that has seen a part of humanity and the world that you are blind to.

These ideas were prompted by my driving to work. I pass many churches. They look bureaucratized and corporatized, ugly squat buildings. Gone are arched columns and marble pillars, the steepled roof adorned with bell tower, architecture designed to reflect the majesty and creative power of both God and man. Replaced now by an architecture designed to maximize utility and occupancy. There was at one point a delicate balance between artist and engineer, between utility and beauty. Now, in a mindset engendered by capitalism and liberal slop, they maximize utility at the cost of beauty. Do you know what else is square and designed to maximize occupancy? Pens for cattle. There was a reason that churches of old were adorned with a steeple—it is because it reaches skyward, toward heaven, a symbolic representation of religion’s role to help elevate humanity to higher levels. It has become an extension of society, though, the squat designs reflecting a sameness. We do not reach higher but wider, growing fat and similar in that widening expansion, not elevating humanity but expanding conformity.

The churches in Latin America that I visited were leftovers from a bygone era. Beautiful cathedrals that both dwarfed and elevated me. Physically, I was dwarfed by the towering columns and high, ornately carved ceiling. Though spiritually, I was elevated, finding a place within this magnificent structure, knowing that human hands and minds had built this, and so too do I share in this testament to human innovation and achievement. The artist—God’s closest relative—was evident in the stained-glass depictions of humanity in his brightest moments, sacrifice and love, family and communion, Jesus and the disciples. And there, on the walls! Aligned in artistic fashion were a plethora of paintings delicately crafted by man to express his colorful spirit, as if to say, I am a child of my God. Look, Father, what I have painted and made! It is nothing like your work, of course, but here, I drew inspiration from your creation. I offer it to my brothers also, a glimpse into his potential. The paintings communicated to our souls, the strangers and I, as they prayed and worshiped underneath the towering monuments of God and his servants.

When I returned to the United States, I was saddened to see my Church. It has a steeple, yes, but the congregants no longer reach for a higher elevation of humanity or spiritual enlightenment, content to repeat the same old stories they have heard as children. The squat building reflects their souls, which stagnate under the relentless sterilization of their religion led by corporate America and the status quo, but they don’t mind. And the stained-glass windows, what a pathetic display against my experience in Colombia, where they depicted scenes in a glorious array of colors. But here in the United States they were small, square, a swirl of unambitious color splattered without care. There was no depiction, no story, no way to connect to the artist.

And I say they are spiritually listless, these churchgoers, and am I wrong? The Church is a bastion of traditionalism, meant to defend against the inevitable dominion of modernity. But they have failed in this most important obligation. Churches in New York allow LGBTQ sermons. There are videos of parents encouraging their “gender fluid” children to express their “transition” between genders. Never mind Revelations, in which the Bible warned us that such demonstrations are a precursor to Armageddon; these “pastors” and “Christians” allow the defiling of God’s beauty right in his own house. And what of the women who divorce their husbands? And I say wives and not husbands because women initiate over 80% of divorces, mainly for spurious reasons, whereas men divorce for concrete reasons such as infidelity. Often unpunished are they for rupturing a covenant between themselves, their husband, and God. They should be excommunicated from every Church but instead, sit in the front row to project a façade of righteousness when their souls are turned black from moral decay and hedonistic abandonment.

And what of the more traditional Christian who do not support such nonsense? Do the women not gossip, which is a sin? Do they not engage in promiscuity? Do the men not fail to exert control over their wives and daughters as their duty? There is a proliferation of weakness and sin within the ranks of Christianity. The unmarried women are on their backs on Saturday and on their knees on Sunday, begging for forgiveness. God is not reflected in their pathetic architecture, and it is not reflected in the souls of their congregation.

They also disrupt the natural order of God, man, woman, children. They preach “equality” and “fairness,” just like the liberals. They say, oh, but it is okay for women to preach and lead in Church. Really? And what about the numerous Bible verses that forbid such things to say nothing of common sense? Isaiah 3:12: “Youths oppress My people, and women rule over them.” Their opinions should be banished from the house of God, being that they are progenitors of sin and oppression. But the weak men and the weaker pastor who is chosen by a weak congregation, led by a weak corporation, led even weaker by a most weak government, do not allow such strong opinions in their folds.

My first Church as a child now has a Korean woman pastor. This is sacrilegious. She promotes ideas insidious to our religious strength. Blasphemy is her existence. Her termination as pastor should be ours. “Ah,” you say, “But it is okay. Women and men are equal.” If you think this, then you have not read the Bible carefully. God gave man dominion over the world and all its creatures, including, but especially women, as explained in 1 Timothy 2:12: “I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; she is to remain quiet.” I reject and do not recognize female authority of any kind, and you, as a man, are robbed of your masculinity when you surrender your God-given role of dominion to the weaker sex. Do not allow these harpies in business suits and skirts to castrate you.

Genesis 3:16 is quite explicit in explaining this battle between man and woman’s differing wills: “Your desire shall be contrary to your husband, but he shall rule over you.” Evidently, the Bible clearly outlines our roles in society. Women will want to dominate, to rule, but it is our role as men to subject them to our authority, our power, by whatever means necessary.

Part IV

The death of masculinity needs to be addressed. The Boy Scouts provide a powerful example. No longer are they Boy Scouts, just scouts. That is because women are envious of male-only spaces. Don’t believe me? Is there a male-only gym, bar, or club? There used to be plenty in New York. Then, ugly, lonely, spiteful women screamed injustice and had them closed. Same with the Boy Scouts. God forbid young boys are instructed by masculine figures. No! They must be feminized.

This fault lies with both men and women. As men, it is our job to lead. Women have a child-like mindset. They like to test boundaries and test authority, pull us in the wrong direction, and get into trouble. As men, we should act as fathers in this regard. Caring, sympathetic, but stern. Our grandfathers failed to set boundaries and enforce them; that is why women nowadays have become out of control. Our forefathers were weak and pathetic. They allowed this to happen. And really, it is not our job to clean this mess, is it?

No, I am not making the argument that we attempt to clean a mess that is not ours. I am making the argument that we should cultivate a strong sense of masculinity, even if the price of doing so means being alone. You should be firm in your beliefs and values and unwavering in your commitment to God, family, and justice. Living in such a way will provide a multitude of benefits to you. Only can you as a man be happy if you embrace masculinity—your true nature. To not do so is to live as a lion that cannot hunt, a horse that cannot gallop, a fish that cannot swim, or a bird that cannot fly. To castrate your own purpose is like taking a knife to your soul. So why do so? Rebel against the authority of women. Reclaim what is rightfully yours.

As for women, embracing your femininity is a path toward happiness. Men find happiness in conquering, and women find theirs in submission. However, you have been taught the opposite in your shows and movies, your friends and ignorant mothers. You must recognize the inherent polarity between men and women and the necessity of such differences. We cannot have two genders with the intent of conquering. One must be soft, the other hard. Just as the opposite of war is peace. Could you imagine a world with only fire? A world that is always conquering is a world not in peace. Be the peace to his war. That is happiness.

Part V

These are the thoughts that flashed through my mind as I left the parking lot with fast food tucked between the garbs of my synthetic coat. I left the neon lights behind but could not escape them. To leave them in one place is to find them in another.

This thesis is but a rare example of a man who makes an argument hoping that he is wrong. But look at the trend of our societies toward utility maximization at the cost of all else! I said earlier the restaurant was gray and black. Do you know why they do this? To improve customer traffic flow because people do not want to stay, rightly so, in a drab, cold environment. And people are drawn to color. And what color exists in our gray existence but the color of a logo, which is controlled by the corporations? Do you now understand the dystopian nature of allowing these animals to paint our world grey and black and offer us a colorful reprieve in the consumption of their products?

So if people are not utilizing the indoors, why not only serve drive-thru? And why do you even have a drive-thru when it can be delivered to your apartment? Why even leave your apartment? We are moving further and further inside, where all of our basic needs are satisfied. Driven are we toward the inner “sanctum” of our small bedrooms and even smaller computer and mobile screens. Inward, inward, we go, pushed away by harsh neon glow, by the dangers that lurk within their shadows and the offer of safety and convenience of our rooms.

What you see now is a precursor to humanity’s future. The cubicle is your existence. The artificial food and clothing is your existence. The absence of real color, real human connection, and a healthy relationship between the sexes is an inescapable reality. If it has not affected you yet, that is because you exist on the periphery of an inevitable expansion of consumerism.

Already, we have lost many things that cannot be regained. I cherish and lament the loss of my earlier Church and the strong community bond. Sure, we can find that nowadays in some form or another. But it’s not the same. We are divided along many different beliefs. There is no common bond, common goals and ideals, no congruency between men and women or people of the same sex. Relationships, if they exist, are often superficial, though in rare instances, there is still a strong connection between people. But if we continue to move in the direction of modernity and this quasi-capitalist system, those relationships will continue to stretch beyond the strength of their connections, severing, finally, all humanity.