I look about this local Panera store in my suburban neighborhood and detect a general sense of grim discontent upon almost every face that enters and then departs. The older ones looking physically depleted while the younger ones appear caught in perpetual solemn discontent. All seem to be wearing horse hair shirts recently risen from beds filled with garnet sand. The young slender black legging bound Caucasian women seeming most affected with stern gazes of disapproval for the affront of the presence of old white males like yours truly.
Can I get over it? The reigning powers that be installed a system that gives over opportunity and livelihood to every other demographic and gender, age group that is beyond my own. I am the new nigger! The dregs of society that those in the corporate sphere are attempting to dethrone. You walk into their space as they have the lock on resources in that world far afield of human regard called business. They squeeze out the small guy out with oceans of funny money that they and they alone can create out of thin air. You as an insignificant peon have no rights of bargaining to respond in kind. You have been displaced and exist day to day to plod through life in your mind the way that it once was hour by hour. The children of your kind are programmed to despise you as they can no longer make the connection that they are part of you.
Music is no longer music but barnyard groans and snarls from overhead speakers that repeat one sentence simple minded moronic mind numbing three chord melodies. Bang, bang, bang, referential formulaic assembly line snippets grabbed from tense standards stolen by post-modern sanctified mental modification methodology. The almighty transaction of plastic Panera card shove it in the card reader deviant sex. The whole business detrimental to one’s existence of life. Mental mind rot! Another refugee arrives fielding an endangered species bundle of newsprint. Bye, bye, independent thoughts of local human propaganda agents, central command has put you on the impatient conveyor and off to an imminent doomsday.
Old women that relate their present circumstances of life by how many sugar rolls they can order at the counter. The loss of diet coincidental with a final breakdown leading to life cessation. In love with the fantasy of old recipes that have been despoiled by the corporate sphere in size and ingredients so they survive in name only. Male genitals related to bags of tea replaced by the taco.
There is so much to write about of importance in the current era that it is confusing to focus mainly upon that which is not strictly eccentric to one’s own personal experience. Certainly, an individual cannot avoid being daily accused of a certain sense of solipsism even if the topic shared involves the polyglot of other similarly shared opinions. This sort of existentialism leads one to consider their daily existence in many ways subservient to the larger focus on society at the expense of individual concerns. That haunting melody of ancient cinema from the Hollywood version of the so called ‘Greatest Generation’ rings in the background tending to shame one’s primary concern for one’s self. The PC realm taking up the batten from that point to instruct with grave import to chasten one from there!
To get to the point in a personal sense, I am one of those that has become thoroughly confused by what popular society as represented by the media and embodied in many within my vicinity in contradiction with an equal amount of input suggesting that the reality behind the same is nothing more than an ongoing Psy-Op. The facts one needs to verify which have credence but is one ready to truly digest the result? I look out the window down to the expanse of street and horizon locked beneath perpetual gray milkshake skies and am persistently reminded about reports of the daily ongoing governmental function of geo-engineering.
It appears that Americans are incapable of rational thought of any real meaningful sense in the international sphere as most by default only possess thought strictly within the context of one language and the unipolar singularity of a continuous media indoctrinated cultural experience. Maybe then the Psy-Op is a form of much welcomed commercial expansion of their universe as is laying thick asphalt upon an otherwise rocky dirt road? It tends to smooth out the bumps of divergent thought that might interrupt it by simply burying them through the force of its overwhelming technology, the nationalistic state religion. The synonymous internationalist message promoting romantic thoughts like the tree falling in the forest style of mysticism supporting personal self-expression inferring little worth; where the post-Marxist world focuses upon the big ugly bear shitting in the woods causing a mass hysterically event that cannot help but appreciated through rancid smell even though being unseen.