There is an obvious lag in the average modern citizen’s limited level of comprehension that is not up to speed in time with the onslaught of quickly moving world events. In light of the last two decades of a setup before the pitch. For us brain dead Americans (Obama presidency) and the pitch (Trump), a Globalist based agenda has been put into action. One that no longer welcomes journalists, writers and independent thinkers outside the system.
If you haven’t noticed as of late, most modern thinking women, and those otherwise gender challenged as passing for same, are not concerned a wit about politics. This ‘new’ world comes as a shock to both them and the lost generation of once possible regular males that they sired and left all alone at the day care center while they pursued their careers in favor of child rearing. All the popular entertainment scenarios of recent decades past congealed together with a marked degree of predictive programming.
The banker based network of corporate supported government showing up, time and again, to be engaged within an interlocking sequence of Byzantine agendas busily solidify a new international based singular rule redistributing national assetsv siphoned up from grassroots wealth. Two plus generations instittutionally coopted by their top down ideology of a faux Democratic Socialism functionally equivalent to a robotic technological serfdom.
A herd mentality emphasizing bovine characteristics of always going along with popular convention offered after prolonged periods of indefinite but continual crisis. “Never let a good crisis go to waste!” sayeth their soothsayers! The long lost episode of that faraway September when the laws of physics and logic gave out. And the ‘inside job’ canonized as a strictly ‘Arab’ event became the cause of everything. A ‘fact’ no longer contracted by an embedded press.
All those offering rationality based on those former principles of archaic science a next to impossible task these days as the Internet has been shown to be a potent Calisto in being able to eradicate all conventional means of publishing and news distribution counter to its siren song. The ‘We’ all reduced to the status of gerbils locked in a cage spinning our wheels in the Zen-like proposition of ‘making a difference’. The fork in the road of that road no longer able to be taken?
Where does it go from there, down the road, worldwide going to a not so pleasant viral overload diminish all the lowly status of thralls serving the demands of a duplicitous system of governing. That sort of perpetual condition of checkmate where you would be dammed if you could get rid of it and dammed if dare to try! Life from this point becomes drop by drop tincture medicating one’s psyche with the bullshit trivialities of a Netflix reorganized past. And toughening up to face the new realities of conserving every resource, placing self-survival on the top of the list for everything contemplated.
So here I am in a cocoon. A perfect chrysalis of my own making enclosing my life’s existence within a prison containing the detritus of all past hopes going nowhere now for the last three weeks. Three more weeks to go I am told. My psyche in an unattended baby buggy heading towards a cliff as I relax supine within. Where did my job go? I’ve got food, soap, DVD’s and toilet paper enough to survive at least until then. But then what?
There was a popular artist in the nineteen-seventies that used to paint pictures of solitary individuals sitting by themselves within vast landscapes of cubicles. Was he somehow dreaming of what the entire world of civilized countries has now become? We all sit together numbed out by our electronic devices garnering our full attention for the sake of diversion unable to avoid them fully saturated by their hypnotic effect upon our bird brain cage covered consciousness.
The world without is a ghost town bereft of the presence of the species that has fashioned it. Phantom presences sheltered in place, un-seeable, and unknowable, tiny text driven distant voices haunting the late night when the over-abundant commodity of sleep drives one awake. Where has that normal blindness of everyday life that shields us all from the nagging fact of ourselves flown off to?
Here instead is a haggard face that one can no longer recognize. A poorly shaved shaggy hair ridden beast pacing interminably within the cell that those who are in charge of providing their waking fantasies now demands they inhabit without leaving on the chuck-a-luck possibility of incurring a disastrously fatal end due to some invisible menace wrought by a culture half way around the globe.
What proof there is being offered beyond closed places of business, tents cloistering hospital grounds, and occasional new versions of repetitive anonymous imagery of faceless individuals dropping dead in the street. And yes, body bags piling up as we all silently check the daily lotto of numbers infected to the denominator of numbers dead to figure our personal odds of possible survival. And of course, the then what of potentially picking up our lives again, But not as they once were!
How long can the ache of insecurity be staved off when an entire species is thrown off its pins into grave insecurity be restrained before it goes mad and destroys itself? The once plentiful avenues of goods and services and shiny toys once expected now supplanted by quickly moving clerks beholding to an arachnid-like entity that ships them direct to your door leaving congealed corrugated wrapped items from its warehouse based spinets. Total dependency upon it.
Exchange and all face to face activities strangely abhorrent to even contemplate now. That demonic paper that was carried about in leather lined back pocket and purse radioactive with some unknown personage’s lingering touch. The hand of death possibly leaving its fingerprints on our soul sending it on to limbo or the next world if we carelessly take it in our own. What has happened to the world that just last month seemed like it would never end? Well, it has.