How it’s fucking DONE, people.
Robert C. Christian wasn’t his real name. The man who walked into the Elberton Granite Finishing Company in rural Georgia in 1979 with a bizarre construction job admitted he was hiding his real identity, and the identities of whoever he was working with—an unseen organization he referred to solely as “a small group of loyal Americans,” according to the Elbert County Chamber of Commerce. Christian was looking to build a monument in the mold of Stonehenge, with four granite slabs standing almost 20 feet tall arranged around a smaller central slab, with a capstone connecting them all. Together the six hunks of granite would weigh over 100 tons. Like Stonehenge, the slabs would be arranged in a precise order keyed to astronomy, with a meaning unknown to all but Christian and his colleagues. Unlike Stonehenge, words would be carved into the sides of this monument, a list of 10 edicts repeated in eight different languages. At once apocalyptic and utopian, with an ethos that could’ve come straight from Star Trek, the Guidestones’ message seemed to yearn for a better future—or, as some apparently believe, stood as Satanic instructions on how to undermine God and subjugate humanity.
Yeah, well, Roddenberry always a damned liberal, sadly enough. As you’d no doubt expect, the “edicts” read pretty much like a 101-level syllabus of the Left’s core curriculum. To wit:
Maintain humanity under 500,000,000 in perpetual balance with nature.
Guide reproduction wisely—improving fitness and diversity.
Unite humanity with a living new language.
Rule passion—faith—tradition—and all things with tempered reason.
Protect people and nations with fair laws and just courts.
Let all nations rule internally resolving external disputes in a world court.
Avoid petty laws and useless officials.
Balance personal rights with social duties.
Prize truth—beauty—love—seeking harmony with the infinite.
Be not a cancer on the Earth—Leave room for nature—Leave room for nature.
And this is where we come to the truly delightful part of the story, which I will helpfully boldface for y’all.
Nobody is exactly sure why the Georgia Guidestones were built, or why they were built in a small town over 100 miles northeast of Atlanta. Only one person, Elberton banker Wyatt Martin, knew Christian’s real name; Martin died in December, 2021, apparently without revealing who Christian really was. Christian’s subterfuge has fueled a decades-old mystery and a conspiracy theory that just won’t die, one that was injected into Georgia’s current governors’ race by a fringe candidate earlier this year, and which presumably lead to an early morning bombing that precipitated this afternoon’s destruction of the Guidestones. The Georgia Guidestones have been a source of conjecture and controversy for over 40 years, and we’re no closer to understanding their true origins today than we were when they were built in 1980. And instead of trying to understand them, fearful zealots who believe they were built by the New World Order, or the Freemasons, or the Rosicrucians, and stand as a monument to Lucifer, have ultimately destroyed them.
“Fearful zealots,” is it? Yeah, take a flying fuck at a plate-glass window there, Poindexter. Normal, patriotic Americans “understand” them perfectly well, thanks, having only had their noses rubbed in such smarmy, self-righteous “edicts” like the steaming, odiferous dog turds they are for, oh, the past five or six decades or so—by every obnoxious “journalistic,” musical, cinematic, artistic, political, broadcast, or professional-sports establishment in existence. The one and only thing here I find at all difficult to “understand” is why some enterprising soul didn’t blow the fucking things all to Hell and gone long before now. But I’m definitely glad somebody finally got the job done for us.
No matter who paid to have them built or why, the Georgia Guidestones were ultimately not that different from any other roadside tourist attraction. Two hours west of the Guidestones you can find Marietta’s famous Big Chicken, a 56-foot-tall fast food restaurant in the shape of a chicken’s head, with moving eyes and beak. Four hours east of Elberton sits South of the Border, a rundown (and absurdly racist) compound of tacky gift shops, gross restaurants, and offensive Mexican stereotypes, made famous by billboards that stretch for hundreds of miles in every direction. All three are essentially the same: goofy, eye-catching kitsch that wants you to stop and take a closer look. The only thing that sets the Guidestones apart is they didn’t ask for any money. It’s farcical that these stones have inspired such a fearful, outraged response. The only people nuttier than whoever built the Georgia Guidestones are the people who wanted to destroy them.
Today’s bombing reduced one slab to rubble, and caused some damage to the capstone. Late this afternoon the rest of the Guidestones were torn down. If you never saw them in person, don’t fret; you probably would’ve lost interest within 20 minutes or so. If you have been before, hopefully you got some good photos. If anything, the bombing just enhances the air of mystery that surrounds the Guidestones, and ensures they’ll remain a source of fascination for years to come—even if they no longer exist.
I wouldn’t put any money on that bet. Like the aforementioned dog turds, they’ll eventually turn white, stop stinking, and crumble into just another forgotten minor unpleasantness—exactly as the Leftist ideology that pinched the original loaf will be.