There was a problem with existence as a material manifestation of more than simply thought.To be aware of one’s self had its limitations in that a single thought might have inferred coherent action? But when it was split into two there was an immediate fractious level of disagreement and divergence. The single cell ‘world amoeba’ may have had a way of reconciling this? But after all it was bound to fail when it was defined by varying substances. Democracy just did not hack it. Thus when man as the noble savage may have abided the ‘sturm und drang’ of immediate family in the wilds civilized cooperation would always lead to unforeseen burdens and restrictions in the form of laws. The goal being to find a way to get all involved to act with common purpose as one. From that point on the immediate environment had become the biggest adversary. The tribal notion of get along with the great mystery of ‘what is’ dissolved into the ever present mentality of ‘what is possible at some future point in time’. The focus of the amalgamation of the species into a nation took away the individual rights to decide against against the judgments of the most influential. And the fiction of the majority was born along with its greatest advocate, the politician.
A larger dilemma soon appeared to this self-lauditory notion of organized society in that the larger it became the more it found rivalry with heretofore unexpected larger ones. Many of which though not initially warlike were definitely more efficiently organized and therefore innately powerful. The natural inclination to overwhelm by force of numbers so as to assimilate this foreign body needed a more subtle strategy of something called guile which was a device that acted as a cover for implementing some form of self-serving form of deceit/ This became known as diplomacy and involved the trade of women as fertile concubines that would yield family members to serve as hostages for one of the other side’s vestigial remaining notions of family loyalty. The procreation of offspring being the greatest form of reserve strength in the contemplation of imminent hostilities. And the greatest burden when resources to accommodate a progressional rate of growth was not supported by the surrounding environment. Thus Democracy’s true tyranny was born being called social welfare.
A reliable means to trim down the thinking herd and control its ability to reason then became necessary to counter this burden and came into being known by the term warfare and was thus established. The difference between the notion of overwhelming confrontation by numbers well-known in the dim formative past now became a struggle against ones own. The entities known as ‘straw men’ and ‘scapegoats’ were invented always seeming to have a permanent home within ones own general population. Animal husbandry quickly morphing into agriculture so that the designated irritants to society could be regularly weeded out as needed. The large the population the greater the ferocity of the means of extinction needed. The mere public suggestion of the possible implementation of these tools of the trade of slaughter led to the double-edged form of mental anguish called advertising and public relations. The idea being to keep the core population fearfully off balance and thus easily tractable to cooperate with strategies that would lead to their own physical destruction. The longterm effects producing and unexpected offshoot in the form of the misnomer of modern medicine. Something that rough hewn individualistic males were restrained from avoiding by security obsessed females who, as the main object of social manufacture of species, would not tolerate. Thus was born the concept of the mightily hammer of the vote. An illusory ritual where the male of the species was ever undermined by those professing feminine aspects in favor of the something called the state. An artificial mental construct that assured getting things most in return for pledging one’s future biological output as collateral in return for the guarantee of the lion’s share of resources. The mechanism passed overhead of these females to the male being something called taxes. A concept associated with a necessary stable condition commonly referred to as living death.
The onion-like complexity that evolved in the wake of all these many advancements being the source of that nagging condition called angst. a situation where an external artificial device was created to help self monitor the species on an individual basis. Considering the stratum of the various flavors of humankind and the styles of life that the unavoidable effects of unmitigatable nature provided this invention had to imagined in several forms. The phone. The movie theater. And the television screen. The first of these variants useful to females in their role as wardens of general society. The middle as a remote location where offspring could be occasionally exiled to for the mental well being of the former. And of course, the last device being useful to immobilize the most egregiously active and individualistic males in specific traps such as sofas and bar stools. The programmed material of modern broadcasting demonstrating its worth in monotonously recycling the same of fantasy of male potency in sports that featured male in adolescent play and mock slaughter. Something useful to the aims of the larger organism as previously stated.
A further means of control to restrict the restlessness of the combination of men and women had to be devised that would further inhibit unexpected outbursts desirous of escaping the proscribed patterns of society’s strictures as a whole. The orderly distribution of human beings to toil at their allotted tasks needed a static address. Thus the family home accompanied by the mortgage that was impossible to pay off until later life was instituted. The fiction of something called ownership a carrot to be held just out of reach by the overbearing burden of the state upon the hapless donkey. Something to further hobble any overly precocious male. The stress created by these artifices of the abstract referred to a normal life needing to be circumvented by a vehicle that represented escape but in fact ended up in further debilitation of choice. The modern automobile with its yearly releases managed to garner whatever future earning potential a family unit might be able to produce and recycle all their equivalent work product back into the hegemony of the overbearing state. That world germ known also as mankind.
One sees a small black dog on the grass in Summer chasing about. Released from the leash it chases the ball. Its minder the source of its attentions, it returns in a frenzy cavorting and nervously in rapt attention of the owner of its leash that it has been temporarily released from waiting for the ball to be tossed again so that it can make another mad single pointed dash towards the solitary oblivion of the task of retrieval. The animal reduced to a reliable mechanism that will almost literally chase itself to death to continue the same cycle. How one wonders it one’s own existence in this strange thing called life substantially different. Complex? More varied in the multiplicity of the many cycles? Yes! But caught up in the repetitive cycles none the less.
Society is implicitly a prison of its own making. An unvarying set of daily circumstances that have been enfranchised under brand named entities that reliably provide what is deemed a product or service/ The interlocking of of the complexity of same carefully calculated to induce a constant pattern that the members of society devote the hours of their lives to support. This product of the congress of many human intellects all trained to a common purpose of using a similar model to sculpt a world that defeats the natural chaos while simultaneously analogizing it. As members of this amalgamation one must literally earn the right to survive. For like the chaos of the natural world to live in a unique and unplanned manner is an anathema to the fiction of perpetual survival that organized society offers one over the course of a human lifetime.
The larger question that grows up over time within those that mature over many decades of experience in the slowly morphing caterpillar like progress of the cocoon of surrounding society being the why and wherefore one would enjoy without its overbearing presence. For in as much as it can reliably provide it does equally take away. One never leaves the proverbial school room from the time one is inducted after toddling. You just progress on within the corridors provided so many times unconsciously possessed with the notion that there must be something more. Yet so often finding only a subtle variation of the same exact thing awaiting upon waking from the more random chaos of dreams. The validity of one’s own existence as far as the larger body of mankind is concerned being proven by the sameness that one returns to each morning. One state of being embracing progress into the unpredictable. The other into the persistence of a subset of experiences that in no way substantially differ from those lived the day before. The great weight of the artifice of the mechanism of public opinion ever threatening to demolish the desire to continue forth unchaperoned into the unknown alone.
It is at this boundary where the tension of these two impulses seem to define the character of any given human. Betwixt the world of industrial fantasy that ever advertises the glories of perpetual constancy and the risk taking of repeatedly embracing what is in the present an unknown factor that can deal life and death. There are those that shy away from any precipise. And those that use what they might have discovered in the past as an implement to survive jumping over its edge into limbo. All that are presently known of being perhaps like some monstrous school of fish that are caught in a fisherman’s net that confines the known species. As a member of this enraptured community one has to ask if one dares what else could there be? The collective veil of categorized human experience of the stages of life as lived soon forcing one to ponder if there is any way to get off what seems to be a perpetual moving passenger train barreling down an endless track over a trestle that will not allow escape but only certain destruction. One finds oneself like any tiny little caged animal obsessively consummed with the question, “Can there not be something more?”
So like the dog in the park in the context of the civilized world we are forced to chase and chase and chase and realize that for some strange unaccountable reason of unaddressed fears of a often seductive unknown we condemn ourselves to the former while professing longing for the latter. This split obsession leading nearly all to the reliable nowhere of the same.
The bottle’s neck smelled like sarsaparilla.A most annoying smell that transposed itself to taste when one lifted the bottle’s open end to the mouth to swallow it’s contents. As the neutral sensation of carbonated mineral water was tainted by that fragrance it despoiled the experience of the drink. At two dollars a bottle, its presence as a staple to his daily diet had become an expensive commodity. Certainly not detrimental to his general health. In fact quite the opposite. But fatal to his lack of income which at present was next to insufficient. How unthinking of the anonymous party who stocked the local store to bathe their skin in some eccentric offbeat fragrance that for them was some sort of signature of individual personality. An unwanted commercially available pheromone that may have provided them with a greater level of social accessibility but to his sense of smell and taste only signified annoyance. The efficiency of his senses had come down to the bare minimum over too many years of constant assault by city living with its proclivity of volatile industrial ether. Acetone’s, keytone’s and kerosene’s. Ethyl methyl’s, pollen’s and dusts. The smell of tainted canals wafting up daily from ten miles to the south. It all intermixed into a noxious stew the presence of which was ever on display on the horizon each night at sunset. The personal signature of the massive enclave within which the bulk of his mortal existence had transpired. A scratchy dryness suddenly appeared as he cleared his throat of the sensation of thickened mucous with low grating vocal scrape.
His custom at the small supermarket chain was regular but small in revenue. The fact that the state was picking up the tab not adding weight to any potential commentary he might offer as to a positive suggestion by him of how to avoid such unfortunate inadvertent situations that would steal away customer satisfaction with the goods offered by the establishment. After all if he had wanted some flavored water there wee certainly more sophisticated and tastier alternatives available. He could imagine the scenario in this current era of faceless commercial consumerism. A prompt refund might be initially offered with a customary apology at his complaint when the touchstone of a recent sales receipt was produced, Maybe the thin unsubstantial promise of promptly seeing to it that an internal inquiry would be conducted within the next day so as to bring the offending shelf ‘stocker’ into line with store policies on personal hygiene. Part of him was rankled by the thought of this. One one hand there would be a certain Patrician satisfaction if on the next purchase the product’s containers had resumed their former neutral lack of taste or aroma. Yet this would cast him in a group that he himself personally despised. Those pinch nosed egomaniacs that thought nothing of disturbing the usual fast-paced rhythms of efficiently stocking shelves by hard working low paid staff who would now be eyed with an even greater level of suspicion in an economy that already had too many working far below their potential earning less dollars than they were supposedly deserved of. This might lead to unintended consequences? By some odd stretch of his imagination he could conceive of a scenario where through the consternation of an underling his rare and hard to find preference of brand would be struck from the store’s inventory? Then where would he be able to seek out the key active element in his own personal daily ritual of mental solace?
It made him even more cross to think how powerless he was to provide one measure of constancy to a diminished level of bare bones existence that by all intents and purposes should not have to suffer such constant and daily privation. When would this persistent economic drought lift and a reasonable level of local prosperity return? It was so unfair! The neighborhood was not by any stretch of the imagination destitute. The ghetto of urban blacks and Hispanics at the municipal border stood some two miles East. A curtain of struggling tax challenged White Middle class homes standing as sentinels to the ebb and flow shift of ethnic distribution. It was true that the endless stream of peoples from outside the nation had not been stemmed but quite the opposite, had been increasing. The first and second generations of same now economically acclimated and relatively prosperous and stable. The spectrum of goods and services locally available bearing ever more foreign sounding names with strange characters painted in garish jarring color palates that seemed to contradict those that once was long used to. He could recall so many memories of years past where one could rely on local standbys that had made their reputations solid through providing old world service and goods that were significant of those golden years of easily obtainable living. Now their empty store fronts were slowly being bulldozed having sat too long in the eclipse of what was formerly the good old days. It made his blood boil to see that other neighborhood across the boulevard just South stand so unaffected by all this! Large houses with many more bedrooms than needed by the average family/ Well-manicured highly decorated parcels of acreage that required ant-like crews of immigrant labor to maintain that immaculate fairy tale untouched appearance. As if everyone who lived there was somehow an Olympian far above the cares and woes of the normal folk that did without so that they did not have to. That was the myth and backbone of the credo of Capitalism! Something that despite all the social cultural dislocation that most felt one was required to give reverent lip service to.
He took another sip from the bottle and wrinkled his nose. Things were not like this before his mind responded to the renewed annoyance of that strange offbeat scent. It reminded him of those odd smells that would be occasionally wafting past into the open driver’s side window of his sedan when he found himself driving through that over-packed noisy decaying urban sprawl that was thick with perpetually dissatisfied ghetto-dwellers who seemed always surly and ready to impose the threat of violent confrontation. The associations one had when traversing those areas was to keep the windows rolled up tight and maintain a swift and as uninterrupted progress down the center lanes of a major boulevard making sure that one would not be unsuspectedly blocked by hostile parties who might have violent intentions on their mind. He absolutely hated those places and could imagine setting foot on the Moon without a space suit easier than strolling down the sidewalk of any of those avenues either day or night. Their incrementally expanding presence ever seeping towards his own tiny kingdom being so very significant of how bad things were getting in the world at large. He hated that smell. It upset everything! It made him want to sell or even just throw out everything, sell his property and go somewhere. Anywhere! Just as long as he didn’t have to deal with those ever-demanding hostile forces. It wasn’t fair! He and his parents had worked for years starting up a small family company that when times were good allowed them to live well. The shift in technologies and the fall of fashion restlessly progressing away from the style and substance that the business offered causing it eventually to close before the passing of his kin. He had to supposed that given his own advance in age that he was to be considered almost a dinosaur? Someone from a bygone era that wouldn’t have the skill base or proper mentality to continue in society in a manner that was productive enough to hire. His generation like that of his own parents being the most reliable and easy target of eventual scorn. It wasn’t true he heard an inner voice protest. Alas a deeper more steadied voice seemed to respond, “Indeed it was!”
Orwell would have been proud. That is, if Orwell really admired his own sense of vision about the world falling into perdition. The worldwide system of communication that initially had been free of constraint. But now one had to fear that one would be secretly singled out and barred for some arcane reference to what those who ran and controlled the system might consider as “inappropriate“. News items both real and ersatz were daily broadcast on tributaries of the larger upstream news wires. Liberally documented with what appeared to be grassroots phone captured video footage peppered with high quality ‘mood’ photos. Material designed equally as much to confuse as to clarify. Cadres of ‘trolls’ up and down the stream of information muddying the waters with enthusiastic disinformation cast in negative emotions urging ‘knee jerk‘ animal response from the average viewer. Pick any rabble rousing era in history and compare the genius of employing the crowd dynamic of schizophrenic single-mindedness without the actuality of a physical mass of humanity standing beneath the same tree. The virtual victim handing their plucked rhetorically by the neck swinging before all. The mob stirring its ire and rebounding ot back and forth between anonymous sources. Some actual personages and others paid agitators of the state apparatus who egged on any so foolish as to let their pent up emotions fly forth into typed text. The robust mechanics of this unified system growing ever more voracious for raw data. Collecting, organizing and storing every aspect of what was so foolishly inputted. Assaying the time and frequency of keystrokes. Building dossiers of cross referenced preference to model the behavior of the faceless individuals based on time of day and the voraciousness of their actions in accordance with the category of latest event.
How foolish anyone was to abandon their accustomed modes of real world discourse with their fellows in favor of the promise of a larger theoretically more admiring audience. A figment of one’s imaginary ego bound desire to find and have universal acceptance with the fiction of others that thought and felt and acted in consort with their own supposedly unique point of view. The opposite of this situation of course being the case. Liberty, as it once was known had become a sham. The general population no longer willing to mount inconvenient notions into any form of ground level immediacy of physical conversation. Preferring instead the absurd antithesis of what was in fact completely monitored discourse with what was in fact an artificial avatar of the state. The streets and byways of the land growing quieter by degree as the masses of humanity chased their own tiny personal handheld devices. Their rapt attentions ever focused hopefully on the appearance some small byte of information or string of text from some remote unseen source with a familiar ‘handle’. A world enslaved. Removed physically from the waking world and thrust into a consensual illusion of daily accessible mass communication with the mental construct of a diverse and accepting multicultural audience. Who knew anymore if their pen pals were human or just artfully guided collections of electrical impulses following algorithms set up to recapitulate one’s own previous responses over inauthentic events that to one’s shock might have never occurred in the first place. The hint let out from on high every once and a while that this was indeed the case. That the whole experience was a trap. A stratagem devised to create mass hysteria and then study the reactions of the two legged public at large. Like rats condemned to the pernicious curiosity of psycho scientists forever changing the maze keeping them away from food and fraternity with their own kind. Cruelty and perverse intentions conducted all in the name of a soul crushing ever-voracious Babylonian Hebrew deity Moloch whose fires needed to be stoked minute to minute with fresh bodies and fertile minds. The offerings to this fire illuminated drawn from the personal commitment of the unwary not understanding the danger in so frivolously sharing their innermost thoughts with this infernal beast.
The collective entity of humanity counted and the sum total of their thoughts, hopes and dreams added up and then recycled back to them in some perverse form of twisted reflection advocating further abstraction from the self in promoting the purchase of highly prices useless articles to enhance the ‘realism’ of the experience. When in fact the merchandise was simply a more intricate form of mental encroachment promising everything to its new owner but delivering a time wasting enhancement of sequestering more minutes of devotion during the day to steal away one’s mind away from one’s self. Everlasting temporal fame and the most up to date membership with that imaginary elite lurking just below the surface of awareness of the growing obsession for satisfaction of the same growing like a cancer obliterating the normal personality expressing anything individual. The entire society de-evolving into insects nervously seeking out their own kind trying to find their hive. The monsters administering this system either completely blind to its eventual ramifications or so morally bankrupt to only acknowledge the thrill of directing so many hundreds of million lives with the casual touch of a few keystrokes. The notion of enjoying an absolutely unique self as once considered the most enervating element in existence now close to extinct. The age of parasites feeding on the soul of humanity now having progressed into full swing.
There had long been a notion popularly held by recent generations now just past that vampires are real and do exist. Manifestations of bipeds that lived following the herds of humans through time and space as a pack of wolves might have in the Eastern forests of middle Europe before they had been denuded by the sightless industry of man. Shape shifter’s by the intelligent design of the great nameless invisible creator of all, they had many odd and arcane powers that their punier humankind could barely imagine in dark nightmare disturbing rest. The lexicons of descriptive words the reigning babble of many parallel languages unable to fully describe their powers over their prey. Only in terms of the strength in numbers did hominid’s enjoy any sort of advantage. This consequence coming from the husbandry of their betters in their species being bred at large as an expansive herd. The tastes of their master’s leaning towards variety creating much duplication. There seemed to be no inherent danger to their breed from what was generally referred to by these self-congratulatory superior entities. Many of their foremost leaders kept larger estates manned by select members of them for the amusement of play and basic sustenance to be harvested. The roles that these unwitting mortal were found to be most useful in being servants. The greater delicacy generally agreed within the brood being not simply blood or flesh but the capturing of their life’s forces drained at the point of death through fear serving almost as a condiment. There was a natural loathing that was harbored by some bipeds based upon a certain unexpected level of biological evolution of awareness. Careful watch kept to make sure that this phenomena was not contagiously spread so as to make the larger herd unmanageable. To the uncrafted sensibilities of their breed any extended attempt at a larger realization of their plight defeated by socialization. The rules of society in the hands of their ‘betters’.
Hello all you traitors to your own kind! You will get what is coming to you. What you have strived and connived for all along. No holiday will mark your victory. No statue will be erected to your fame. They will all be gone torn down in the beautiful impossible dystopia that you have built with ash and rock fragments of the one that you so righteously ripped apart. The work of millennia erased because it did not fit with the trend of the day proclaimed on your I-phones. I hope that you rot in the universe that you are hell bound to create in your self-righteous fervor. You are working hard to deserve it. A master hand from behind the scenes is evident. Whites betray themselves. Defile their own kith and kin. They would rather be slaves to a false ideals. Than fight for their own kind. Than defend their own cause for survival. Blinded, brainwashed, by an embedded enemy that pretends to be a friend. But that is obsessed in wearing the crown of thorns of another. Obsessed by the tale of one of their own that they murdered so very long ago. A band of common cutthroats. Pretenders to the thrown. A deceitful scheming ever restless insurgent bent only by a hatred of the human race. That squats over the moral high ground like a jealous hen. It summons its minions fanning the hot flames in what is worse in them. Turning them into a pack of wild dogs. You can hear the pack barking in midday. No longer simply a nuisance at night. Those subverted by the sham of governing sit idly by shivering in their hutches like lesser hens. Concerned only with protecting their own nests. Of squatting indifferently while they fail their oaths of office with complete indifference. The will not survive. But de-evolve. Blacks cannot change! They still are enslaved. And prefer to remain so because, “da pikin’s is always good!” Shiftless beggars deserving of zero respect. They can never pull themselves up out o the pig pen poverty the so richly enjoy. What fun to exert their mercurial mindless violence and get away with it. The sick twisted mentality of getting what’s coming. The will. But it will be their end. They will be gone after the whites are. Hordes of barbarians babble in their graveyard tongues. Uncaring of anything but what is deemed as wealth. Come from afar to sack and pulverize all that they do not understand. Cannot understand. Were never meant to by the strictures of the lands that they were raised in. That they left. They are merely hatchling’s wrought of former guilt of those that they have come to consume. To cannibalize. Amazing how frugal and effective this unseen hand works! Turning one against another. Blood must be shed to bring all to their senses. But then it will be too late. The world will move on and civil society will lay in shards. In its place a hostile workhouse that will slowly replace humanity by the clock. Commodities only from cradle to grave. Genetically modified to not even care. To be happy like a mindless idiot. To be ready to serve and serve and serve at the push of a button. Robots in name. And worth nothing. Amazing how well decadence works. A lesson passed down from the universe to the lions of old. The hyenas will eat you. The roaches will devour the rest. The seven plaques of Egypt revisited. The same old story brought to you by the same old culprits. Go ahead and laugh! It’s your funeral.
“The Reve Mal” It forever seem odd that of all mankind’s devices stories of one kind or another remain the most potent part of human existence. Not necessarily good stories or long familiar ones that have been repeated over and over so many times that they seem etched in the back of one’s brain. Stories that suggest an odd unexpected conclusion that border on the temporal quality of clever. Bundle them all up and you have the motivating force behind society begging along the way of course for it to include those of your own. Case in point of those fed to you by your unconscious in the collective realm of dreams. The current era being overwhelming leaving one a phantom padding about within their own personal museum of ultimate obsolescence. That adage of utilizing a fraction of brain capacity coming down in so many ways to a base level of time spent on contemplation.
“The house was filled with a collection of reptiles. The most notable being alligators and their crocodile cousins that congregated int he middle of the room snapping their jaws as one passes. It seemed a good time for a departure and my aged mother stood at the door to the hallway ready to exist down the short flight of stairs. I met her just outside and bundled her into the Lincoln Town Car onto the front seat. Then it seemed that her older sister also was in the back seat.”
At this point it is useful to stop to tell one and all that this is but simple illusion as it cannot be substantiated by any physicality in the current waking world. And as many have pointed out so plainly when one extrapolates under the bright Sun of midday. So many easy explanations existing presenting existential arguments defying that experience as if it was planted only within one’s head by a more earthly random experience. Yet from the insider perspective of within that single head that inspired it the waking world despite all its easy camaraderie cannot disprove it noting nothing more than a frequency of same. Offering only ones daily return to habit in believing that palpable reality need be proven by the simple fact of its continual intervals of repetition. This becoming a particular delirious dilemma for those types afflicted with an acute form of solitary aloneness that has not strict the convention easily at hand to derail it from being a positive belief.
Thus those afflicted went about their daily routine with a feeling that influenced their appreciation for the their immediate circumstances that could not be verified by actual experience. A distinct disadvantage in dealing with strangers and distant acquaintances, who of course were never privy to the eccentricities of the dreamer. How this all played out in the midst of so many faceless masses only a matter of importance to the one who experienced it. What weight could such a thing have in a sea of indifferent humanity? “For after all . . “, one might easily recite, “. . .what is one man’s opinion against the sea of the many?”
To consider the difference in the opinions of widely disparate eras forever seemingly obsessed with contrasting poverty with plenty it might be appropriate to reflect upon the differences of former times in terms of general popular attitudes. Those particular ones spotted in the from a distant past offering the promise of success gained by the experience of the amalgam of both experiences. Ones that surpass in blatant symbiosis the more contemporary ones which by comparison seem near to impossible to ever actually achieve. Freely available work almost on demand as livable wages for example. The talented being able to cut more favorable deals in terms of wages and benefits based on verbal performance. “Closer’s” versus “talker’s!” The newest most latest form of sensibility being to run general society like a meat packing house where nothing gets wasted despite any potential risk to the public health.
A more polite form of acknowledgement offered exclusively to those from other lands. As those with strange customs strangling the conventional experience of others considered indigenous. You’ll be solicited along the way by vague entities that routinely pass themselves off as just plain regular personable folk. The dreamy image posed in a few well-composed pictures set in a pleasing locale dressed in appropriately stylish outfits that are carefully configured to strike a positive chord with you as their prospective consumer and eventual targeted rival. The closet thing to this composite identifying label possibly being referred to as, “THE TEAM.” A very determined stratagem of lack of identity identifying that same old corporate firewall virtually protecting the company from any need for their accountability to customers for their services. Everyone and everything treated simply like a commodity.