So here is how the story really goes! That particular proverbial little boy, the one that one day is destined to be a clothier, along with the modern whistleblower have become ‘persona non-gratia‘ pariahs. The whistles blown by same condemning the unchecked overreach of powers perpetrated upon society in general. Those currently in positions of administrative power shamelessly exploit the fears of that public that they govern to justify breaking them economically. And they have a lot of help from the non-stop electronic chatterbox of politically inbred corporate-run mass media outlets. The tired media narrative of those who are in power and those said not to be in power. The establishment is currently a Leftist gambit. It tends to play both sides in that way Those few of us that refuse these newly imposed hop skip and jump rituals demanded by the paper thin facade of imminent crisis that this supposed new ‘normal’ foisted on them then designated as useless eaters! The ‘Royal We’ of all supposedly to conveniently die off as planned through enforced deprivation by slow starvation. Because no one should dare to stand up to put a stop to the actions of these ‘God’ appointed leaders. There is a lot of comfort at the lowest of levels in playing it safe and silently receding into the densest most anonymous region of the herd.
But in our current situation within a playing field that envelopes the entire civilized world you have too much company from every other member of your own kind in terms of vying for scant resources. The larger statistical consensus will be judged unnecessary by that small segment your betters. Yet still remain comfortably attractive in the minds of the general mainstream masses, even if it is found to be a totally artificially mechanism of social control manufactured by those same tyrannical overlords. Most people would rather believe in a socially acceptable lie than dare to acknowledge verifiable facts create even a small degree of doubt. Especially those that by common simple street logic are found to obliquely confront the bilious representations of truths daily stretched way out of proportion. These same undeniable party line facts buttressed by a pretty face. The comfort zone of an eternally kindly televised attitude that people much prefer to align their existence along. A solipsistic conceit that by the fact of many years of conditioning they purposefully associate with trustworthiness.
Once indoctrinated starting from early childhood most people are left defenseless from routinely being led blindly into otherwise blatantly obvious political gambits that sooner or later end in their own destruction. The most time-honored methodology of mass disposal being periodic wars of aggression which are always clothed in rhetoric characterizing it as rightful defense. These actions taken on behalf of an agenda of the few at the expense of the many. Of course, just the mere possibility of this game being discovered to be founded in fact drives those who are unable to think for themselves into a frenzy of abject denial. The posture that is adapted immediately denigrates anyone daring to deviate from the official narrative as someone not quite right in the head. From that point on these attitudes quickly morph into aggression focused at the person speaking heresy challenging the safer posture of groupthink.
I fell for the bullshit way back when I still loved women in general! But like all men, I was always disarmed by the mere thought of them as if some unlucky sailor cast overboard into a current rapidly pulling him away from the safety his ship. Some, too many of their kind, looking to be fixed. Fixed? What the Hell does that mean? Fixed like a dog or cat? Or possibly fixed in terms of a transformational experience of marital bliss to finally become right running and complete? Irish and fiery! Like lighting your cigars in the vicinity of a powder keg! And wondering all the while how high this tossed match would throw you? Never underestimate the forceful fury of a female scorned by others of your own kind! And as their intended prey, one can never dismiss that storehouse of unrelieved passion behind it! On how odd that one will find occasions to unhesitatingly plunge their tongue deep into a mouth of a total stranger and then perhaps go on to lick their two bottom orifices with equal ardor, but subsequently blanche at the prospect of having to use their toothbrush?
Two men encounter each other at a funeral and after a few drinks, their conversation becomes trapped in a theme of the finality of death. One recites his own personal take on the number of possibilities all are likely to encounter. The first being a glorious joyful hog cart to the blinding light of Heaven. The second into the ass scorching fiery depths of Hell! But the third, and most discouraging being a continuation of the exact same life, but in a different location. Repetition of common like’s and dislike’s as an ongoing incantation that of itself both manifests and legitimizes the exterior world. The only enjoyment offered being that of good exhaustion. Love affairs are futile. If you want to live ‘happily ever after’, then don’t fall in love! Become a monk instead, or a nun or bishop and worship at the altar of your own choosing. Human nature is the best cure for one’s own dilemma. Funny little farcical game where a girl taking a bath is spied on by a man on the other end of the phone who looks through the holes in the phone ogling her nakedness. Then teasing her about her vulnerability!
And then there are the legal fuzz-butts! Everywhere you spit, a set of technologically driven piss poor prying eyes passively monitoring all your activity! Electronic, remote, or under glass, all being behind the same. Beady little peepers investigating your every movement. Tracking your progress through society all through the day. What you are watching? Which lights and appliances do you currently have on? And even, what do you want to wear today? All electronically tagged and categorized for statistical number crunching by house algorithms to make you feel important about the sort of demographic that you fit in with. In reality, when you think about it, a simple measure to keep all those big human rats caught safely within their holes. A mental conflict demanding one’s immediate appreciation of their own simple reality through the abstraction of electronically broadcast existential fictions resembling possible versions of life as it might have once been. But, remember, it’s all a farce! A game inclusive of endless well-planned mass perceptions versus personal appreciations. A deep dark never ending song of unrelenting banality captured by those that wish to impose another variety of banality under the fiction of their own control. The fallacy of that type of orchestration found in a flea circus!
Fifteen minutes past bewitching hour and my ego reminds me that I should be responsible for demonstrating the proper degree of gravitas. To become deadpan serious in terms of what I have to offer to the world based solely upon the fact that time is short in this all too brief existence. And by the end of day, so many of life’s experiences tending to quietly seep away through the leaky sieve of one’s failing memory. As part of a committee flying across a vast inland lake my detractors openly scorn my presence. And I in turn returning the favor by making demands leaving them with a stinging bite overpowering their inadequate forms of response. To consider entering the kingdom of Hell? Would it be possible for a man to be completely naked and be able to penetrate its deepest interior of the Sun while still able to remain sentiment? To suffer an unbearable level of pain unimaginable on any human scale of possible perception without hope of ever returning to a normative state of empty euphoric bliss? But instead remain for infinity to fully embrace it? The brutal self-destructive insanity it implies is magnificent prospect to contemplate in all its terrible glory.
Consider the eternal moment! That point in time when one is cast into a black hole past the event horizon where elemental forces of the universe tear you apart, quark by quark. And you, confronting the worst of your fears, foregone any possibility of going back. But instead, fully embracing your own extinction. The overbearing mass media monster stalking the planet relies upon an audience securely caught in their grip, reliably disturbed by the currency of never ending messages promoting fear that they liberally distribute. The same audience, equally fascinated by them. Much like the lure of pornography! Popular horror movies in every genre exploiting visceral exploration of unmentionable evils. Turning them all eventually into ironic banalities. But like the modern media it is very successful in maintaining an ever-present ghostly presence. Much like Frederich Murnau’s vampire film, Nosferatu, the action being stiffly theatrical. Its physical style of high contrast between shadow and over-compensated illumination producing a setting more effective than the acting for driving forth the plot. A stylistic approach embodied in the initial sets viewed in Ridley Scott’s original Alien film. Stanley Kubrick’s, 2001 A Space Odyssey, setting the benchmark associated with the look of current space based technologies. The lever of fear from the fun house motif coming in unexpected but reliable scares. The presence of the monster protagonist is present but never fully manifested. With modern news media, the event spoken of is properly crafted in such a way to suggest, rather than reveal. That mysteriousness wherein reeking of sheer stupidity. A secret wish to the unbounded desire to no longer exist.