Once upon a time, there was an all-powerful ruler, The Empress of Wokeness. Earlier, the Land of Wokeness had been a republic, with free speech, open and vibrant religious practice, aspiration and full-throttle opportunity.
But The Empress took control by arraying herself with spellbinding Magical Garments that could increase her and her allies’ power and wealth whenever anyone gazed upon them.
Glittering, spellbinding, and most of all correct costumery:
‘Fairness.” “Equal Rights.” “Inclusiveness.” “Choice.” “Green.” “Justice.” “#MeToo.” “Gender Fluidity.”
Not to mention blazing garb that blinded, bound and weakened her enemies, The White Male Patriarchy, which included Evil Billionaires (plus the rest of The Rich); Hate-Filled Right-Wing Extremists; Bigoted Pigs; and naturally, Oppressive Fundamentalists:
“Inequality.” “Intolerance.” “Systemic Racism.” “Sexism.” “Homophobia.” “Hate Speech.” “Toxic Masculinity.” “Police Brutality.” “Privilege.”
Once day, The Empress was languishing in her Throne Room, downcast and downhearted. Her Courtiers and Advisors – the Princess of Progressivism, Count of Corpocracy, Archduke of Academia and Sir Roger of Sport, even her Jester of Mainstream Journalism – could not cheer her up.
“The bedazzlement of my Magical Garments is fading,” The Empress lamented. “Even after my utter ascendancy over The Land had reached its zenith with my novel COVID regalia.”
“How I exulted in ‘We’re All in This Together.’ ‘Stay Home, Stay Safe.’ And even more so from, ‘You Care More About Money Than People’s Lives,’ ‘You Want to Kill My Grandmother,’ and ‘Experiment in Human Sacrifice,’” The Empress sighed.
“But now, my subjects are out, about and acting free. I need fresh, alluring raiment to further enchant and enslave them.”
Just then, a horn sounded, and a herald proclaimed, “Emissaries from afar wish to approach, Your Imperial Highness! Bearing goods declared too wondrous to behold!”
“Bid them enter!” cried The Empress, rising with renewed and unrestrained excitement.
Parading in, and boldly dispensing with the customary formalities of bowing before the startled Empress and her Court, The Emissaries strode forward.
“We bring vibrant new vestments for consideration, Oh Great One!” they asserted audaciously. “A wardrobe that will elevate Your Imperial Highness to new summits of supremacy, and plunge the Patriarchy to new depths of decrepitude!”
“Oh!” The Empress exclaimed. “Please show them.”
“We must first explain an astounding attribute of this apparel,” the Emissaries oozed. “Only those who have achieved the highest degree of Wokeness will be able to see and fully appreciate their luster. None other will ‘get it.’ Nevertheless, their hold on your followers – and power over The Patriarchy – will be absolute. All the Truly Woke will bend the knee.”
“We had clothed ourselves in them in recent years and wondered at their force. But now we are compelled to share them with you.”
“I must see them!” The Empress fairly shouted.
“Yes, Supreme Ruler,” The Emissaries condescended. Carefully opening their boxes, and reaching within, they drew out and delicately held forth – nothing.
“Behold, Glorious Lady! The most mesmerizing, magnetizing habiliment of all! We present: ‘Black Lives Matter!’”
Of course, Black Lives Matter, thought The Empress to herself. All lives matter!
Of course, Black Lives Matter, thought the Princess of Progressivism, Count of Corpocracy, Archduke of Academia, and Sir Roger of Sport, even the Jester of Mainstream Journalism to themselves. All lives matter!
But quickly catching herself, lest she be thought less than Truly Woke before her slack-jawed, gaping Court, she blurted, “How enthralling!”
The Courtiers and Advisors, restraining themselves as well, fell to one knee, declaring “Black Lives Matter!”
The Empress, slightly ashamed at her sudden “incorrect” isolation, allowed herself to be ceremoniously stripped and gently “re-clad” by the ever-unctuous Emissaries.
The Princess of Progressivism, Archduke of Academia, even the Jester of Mainstream Journalism fully prostrated themselves, especially as being facedown enabled them to hide their own embarrassment at the Full-Frontal Folly of the Rather Rotund Royal.
The Count of Corpocracy and Sir Roger of Sport bestowed bags of gold on the Emissaries and festooned banners and tweets with their phraseology.
An Imperial Procession was decreed to display the new Magical Garments for the Citizenry. Soldiers rode ahead of The Empress, traveling in an open carriage in Her Imperial Altogether, shouting to the crowd that only the Truly Woke would capture the full radiance of her array and that all should take a knee and cry “Black Lives Matter” at her approach.
The people responded to themselves, of course Black Lives Matter. All lives matter.
But deeply ashamed, not of their Exposed Empress, but of their own unWokeness, they dutifully bowed and called out the phrase.
Suddenly, a young girl, gawking at the Birthday-Suited Sovereign, burst out, “Of course Black Lives Matter. All lives matter!”
Instantly, The Empress, realizing she was indeed unclothed, fled. The People, recognizing that none of her Garments had ever had power other than what they had granted, rose up and restored The Republic.
And they lived happily ever after in Truth, Justice and The American Way.
Nah. Just kidding. The girl called out the slogan with the rest of the cowed crowd. Got a PhD in Oppressed Genders and Peoples Studies. And now is a talking head on MSNBC.
Meanwhile, The Empress of Wokeness, Court and Advisors, now directed by The Emissaries, rule the Land with more of an iron hand than ever.
Your (Conservative) Maestro has been around for a really long time orchestrating messaging and communications strategy for politicians, CEOs and other assorted types. He thinks he may have picked up a few things along the way.