Christianity has always emphasized the severity of the Seven Deadly Sins. The Catholic Church defined them as pride, greed, envy, wrath, gluttony, lust, and sloth. Looking around at America 2.0, it’s hard to escape the conclusion that Deadly Sinning comes as naturally to us as betrayal or dishonesty, which apparently don’t qualify.
Pride can be seen in the scrunched up duckfaces of every young girl, as she posts selfie after selfie, like all her fellow narcissist friends. It can be seen in the face of the bully, after he’s sucker punched someone. You know, as in the Knockout Game. You’ll find it on the glowing faces of executives who’ve outsourced or eliminated thousands of jobs, as they announce how much larger the tax free bonuses will be at Christmas. You’ll hear it in the excessively loud laughter of the practical joker, after he’s humiliated someone. But now we have a Pride Month. And it’s devoted to something no decent person should ever be proud of. Gay Pride gave way to LGBTQ Pride. It’s more inclusive. So the mother who pushes her son to become a “girl,” and the newly emasculated lad himself, become extraordinarily proud. But there is no pride in say, being a faithful husband or wife for a half century. Or just being a good Samaritan.
There are some things to be justifiably proud of. Any parent’s face should be flushed with pride as they hold their newborn baby. Or watch them accomplish great things on the sports fields, or cheer them as they graduate from high school or college. Tear up as they walk down the aisle, and dance at their wedding. Genuine heroes should be proud. A firefighter who saves a child from a burning building. A soldier whose valor earns him a Purple Heart, even though the cause he was fighting for was senseless. Inventors who make all our lives better. Nikola Tesla had a right to be proud. The artist who creates a timeless work. But there’s a huge difference between any of that, and Pride Month, for instance. To paraphrase the late Norm MacDonald, that’s not an achievement. Or to revel in your obesity, for instance. The Fat Acceptance movement has created vain monsters out of those who shouldn’t be shamed as they often were in the past, but certainly shouldn’t be celebrated for an inability to control themselves.
Greed. Despite the enduring popularity of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol, there are too many who have spirits only slightly less selfish than Ebeneezer Scrooge. We would not have the world’s most shameful disparity of wealth, and I could never have written a book exposing it, without the systemic greed that powers corporate America. Every family has a story of a miserly parent, or sibling, or adult child, that won’t help out a loved one, despite having riches to spare. I have found that, generally speaking, the more money one has, the less generous one is. I’ve heard a few old geezers explain, “How do you think I got rich?” No one gets rich pinching pennies, as Survival of the Richest shows. The same people who like to say, “You can’t take it with you,” very often act as if they do intend to take it with them. Or, conversely, spend it all before those they supposedly love the most in the world can inherit it. You’ll see photos of elderly parents taking lavish vacations, captioned, “spending my kids’ inheritance!”
Envy. Now, I’m as guilty of this as anyone else. I envy those conspiracy celebrities that inexplicably have millions of followers. We all have envied something our neighbor, or a family member, has. A bigger house. A newer car. We might envy someone’s good looks, or the fact he has a trophy wife. Or the great accomplishments of his children. The fact he has a cushy job with wonderful flexibility and outstanding pay. When you have a society where over 70 percent of you live paycheck to paycheck, and have less than $1000 in savings, that’s going to happen. How could it not? I think this is the one Deadly Sin that is the most explainable. I’m not sure that our younger people have any more envy than we had back in the misty days of America 1.0. But they probably have a more burning desire to be famous for fame’s sake. A social media “influencer.” A few people have accused me of being that. I think that’s ridiculous. If I thought I was one, I might very well be struck with a sudden burst of the Deadly sin of pride.
Wrath. This is a tough one. If we mean simple anger, we’re all guilty. All doomed to burn in the flames of Hell. Who doesn’t get angry from time to time? I would define wrath more as an anger with repercussions; wielding authority over those with less power. The Old Testament depicts a wrathful God. We all know that great power usually doesn’t come with great responsibility, despite what Spiderman’s Uncle Ben said. And wrath often interferes with the possibility of forgiveness. It’s not just scorned women who have such wrath. It’s very hard for most people to apologize. Or forgive. Mainly because they have pride. You could call it vanity or conceit. They’re part of the same family. Now I think some wrath is justified. For instance, you could fairly say that my writing is full of wrath, directed towards our politicians, business leaders, celebrities, etc. Basically anyone with real power. Call it Deadly Criticism.
Gluttony. One trip to a large public event will reveal this particular Deadly Sin in all its glory. The overpriced corn dogs, cotton candy, and beer stuffed into ever chubbier faces. The average woman today weighs 170 pounds. That was the average weight of a man in 1960. And the average man has a size forty waist. Even as a pathfinding obese child, I never got beyond a size thirty eight. When the Sheeple of America 2.0 aren’t chanting, “USA! USA!” they’re chanting, “Super size it!” The filmmaker who produced the great documentary Super Size Me, Morgan Spurlock, died at only fifty three in 2024, of what they called “aggressive” cancer. Others would call it turbo cancer. Spurlock publicly chided McDonald’s for not giving employees the whole day off to get their vaccine. Ironically, Spurlock survived (barely) a month of nothing but McDonald’s, but was done in by the COVID psyop. When Victoria’s Secret starts glamorizing overweight models, you know that gluttony is being institutionally celebrated.
Lust. Perhaps the most prevalent Deadly Sin of all. I’m guilty of it all too often. They created an entire world of Deadly lust in online pornography. Sex has been used to sell virtually every product for well over a half century. They use sex with advertising because they know it activates the lust in so many potential consumers. At least for me, it’s the hardest Deadly Sin to resist. If you’re at the beach, or a swimming pool, and an attractive female in a bikini walks by, your head is going to turn robotically. That might not be lust exactly, but it is surely interest. Is interest a Deadly Sin? Half of all marriages end in divorce. In every case, it was because of someone’s lust. Few people leave their spouse for the nunnery or priesthood. Maybe the Muslims have the right idea. Does covering every inch of a woman’s body, and even her face, curtail the innate male lust? I’m just keeping it real, because we males are a lusting bunch.
Finally, we have sloth. I don’t think very many people were guilty of this Deadly Sin back in America 1.0. But now? Males and females, and all the assorted gender fluids, are comfortable in wearing pajamas in public. With all that massive weight gain, you’re going to need a lot of stretchable sweat pants. You wouldn’t want to pop a button while super sizing. And XXXL tee shirts. I don’t think they had anything bigger than an XL when I was young. XL is now pretty much the standard. You don’t have to dress like Ward and June Cleaver did around the house. But we used to at least try to be what they called “presentable” in public. Very few are presentable in public now. Look at all the “People of Walmart” photos. I don’t even know where they buy that kind of outlandish clothing. We’ve gone way beyond casual. Way beyond the untucked world I argued for in my radical youth. We are firmly in sloth land now.
I don’t mean to sound like a blue nose. I know I’m a hopeless sinner but I have faith the Lord will forgive me for my imperfections. I know I could never hurt anyone, let alone commit murder. I would never rape even the loveliest girl in the skimpiest thong. Sexual emergencies only apply to nonwhite migrants. I try to hold my envy in check, by remembering the blessings I have, and how many people might envy me. I don’t really display much pride. I could brag about having had ten books published. Perhaps if I’d sold as many books as a Stephen King, then I might have a swelled head about it. I might even look down my nose at the peasants who bought them. But having pride over being a heterosexual? I.E., normal? Pride at not undergoing a gender transition? Pride over my skin color? What am I, Aretha Franklin? You can be happy with yourself without spelling out R-E-S-P-E-C-T.
Greed should be the easiest Deadly Sin to avoid. I know, you’re thinking- that’ easy for you to say, Mr. Share the Wealth. Huey Long is your hero. If you have the financial wherewithal to help a loved one in need, but don’t, then you’re greedy. Period. We all watch or read the story of Scrooge, and get the point. It makes us feel a special warmth at Christmas. And yet, does the message of the story really cause anyone to change? Demonstrating that the most wealthy are indeed the greediest, Warren Buffet is said to have refused to help his daughter pay for a kitchen remodeling, or help out with his granddaughter’s college tuition. He probably kicks puppies, too. Bill Gates, like many rich and famous entertainers and athletes, is a crummy tipper. Greed is the lifeblood of our corrupt and monstrously unfair economy. Our disparity of wealth is a Deadly Sin in itself. How many bankruptcies, suicides, and divorces, could be avoided with just the figurative pocket change of a One Percenter?
Anger, or wrath, can be a good thing, if channeled at the proper target. For instance, it would hardly be sinful for the masses who are suffering under the tyranny of our criminal overlords to be angry at them. I mean, how are we not angry at them? What exactly do they have to do in order to arouse our anger? I see their sinful wrath in every foreclosure, every repossession, and every unfair job termination. Sometimes, we should be angry. It’s cathartic. My good friend John Barbour, still vigorous at ninety two, told me, “Donald, there are two reasons why I have lived so long. One, is my anger. The other is my laughter.” A sadistic ruler turns his wrath upon the common riff-raff, just like an immature child steps on an anthill. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, the great English populist Lord Acton reminds us. We have every reason to fear the wrath of the elite.
