When I was a kid The Lord of the Rings was one of my formative influences. It is a distinctly European work with the echoes of Nordic wisdom pervading throughout. I got the same feeling reading it as I did when I first read the Eddas. I knew this work was something magical, and I treated it with the reverence it deserved.
The most rapturous part of my reading of the books as a child was at the end of the trilogy. In Tolkien's version, the hobbits of the fellowship return to the Shire only to see it taken over by a snide old wizard controlling a horde of half-orcs. The hobbits do the only sensible thing that one would do when finding ones hometown infested by section 8 housing full of parasitic thugs, rapists and murderers: start a pogrom. At this point in the story, the hobbits are level 99 badasses with legendary equipment and these mongrel half-orcs are level 5 newbie fodder. The battle scenes are obviously not on the same tier as the rest of the books, but imagining the return of spirit to a broken people filled my heart with more joy than anything I ever knew.
This part of the story gives the entire book meaning. The most important end to the struggle is the setting right of their own community. It is the best part of the story and I can't shake the feeling that its removal was an act of censorship. The visualization of a violent pogrom in the Shire was a little too much for Hollywood to release.
"The scouring of the shire isn't relevant to the central story, and the hero's journey doesn't need to contain all the elements of the traditional tale," a disbeliever in my critique may say.
Let me give you another example: The Tortoise and the Hare. I'm sure you were read it as a child. It always seemed to me to be an idiotic story to encourage people to slave away endlessly for a statistically impossible hope that they are somehow getting ahead.
When I finally read the real story, I knew hundreds of millions of children were being robbed.
Europe rose to power with children being read the Brothers Grimm classic, "The Hare and the Hedgehog." It is sort of like the story with the tortoise in that the hedgehog challenges the hare to a race. However, instead of simply working hard, the hedgehog outwits the hare. The hare dies in the race, and then the hedgehog goes and loots his house for gold and liquor. Also somewhere along the way the hedgehog keeps his wife in line. I'm not making this up.
Slowly, all the things we give children to teach them about the world have been abridged. Promethian flame is being replaced with politically corrected filth. Even the works where the fire is subtle like Tolkien are in the process of being whitewashed. The youth of my generation were raised with bright Fischer Price colors and rounded corners surrounding costumed animals that never said anything that could upset anyone. I look around at my peers and know that they are truly useless. It is no wonder that other nations are outpacing mine in innovation.
The West is being dumbed down into absolute idiocy. As in Huxley's Brave New World, this is a carefully engineered scheme that starts with our children. They want us to forget every echo of the blood that beats within our veins, until we can be systematically conquered and killed.
Nothing will make me forget the way that Keats's unfinished epic tastes as it rolls off my tongue into the ears of loved ones.
Nothing will make me forget the tears I have shed over Handel's arias.
Nothing will make me forget the glory of Bernini's greatest sculpture mocking the disfigurement of a rotten whore.
Nothing will make me forget the most precious thing that I hold within me: the soul of old Europe.
Throw me in a prison. Tell me that I'm inferior to the Big Mac guzzling, top 100 listening, network TV watching pieces of waste you dare to call citizens. Tell me how I do wrong by embracing the values of my forefathers instead of the garbage you shoved down my throat at public schools.
Nothing will make me forget that I am better than you people.
And finally, nothing will make me forget that the end of the Lord of the Rings, the snide, wizardly manipulators and mongrel half-orcs get sent packing from the good old Shire. I know that's how my story is going to end too.