What to do if the gun that you are shooting runs out of bullets? Or in case you haven’t noticed the phrase, “I feel as if I am being slowly starved to death!” Plenty of unacknowledged historical precedent around the world for that. Not only of food but of finding possibility in the future. There seems to be no room for the dreams of the aged in a world that can barely support the aspirations of the young. Many quietly ask themselves, “Does that mean that I am to be put out in a deserted part of the forest as a meal for wolves?” Metaphorically speaking, or maybe much more viscerally so, I believe that most of us have. The material obsessed corporate world doesn’t cotton to media designated losers or high waged non-producers. It daily writes a script that gets to call the tune as to what is fundamentally reasonable and what is lightheaded folly. Most days the logic of the two are purposefully reversed with the express purpose to confuse and create uncertainty. Better the consumer experience controlled uncertainty about the same old products re-dressed in thinly veiled colors than the other way around where real competition changes their business plan.
There is a certain amount of safety in numbers. If you are part of a tight knit group one increases their odds of experiencing a lesser degree of disruption. That is, unless you make it your business to let it into your life. Check out those rusty junkyard boom boxes with temporary plates that circle those doubtful paradises of urban ghettos as they stutter blame and discontent upon the mainstream of society. No doubt because the handouts afforded by ‘Big Fat Momma Welfare’ have been a bit more meager that usual. The alternate experience is of course anything considered comedy or drama on networked TV where the guy who still is expected to bring home the bacon each night becomes both boob and butt. His life experienced by howling primitive rituals of envious others who can only find their own personal solace in denigrating his at ever opportunity times two. The fact that the latest television monitors sold to “John and Mary Q Public” watch you as much or more than you watch them speaks volumes.
Part of the experience of life’s conundrum of existence is finding a certain degree of passion within the experiencing of it. A goal or a purpose, however trivial can act as the motivation for a life plan. The problem comes when the plan is no longer valid or no longer holds any attraction to the one that devised it. In a land where triviality has replaced the focus once afforded to common sense the devil is in the suspension of detail. Conveniently transparent soundbyte packaged scapegoats come and go every few days and the continual task of picking up the pieces of ceiling strewn about the room from the sky falling in on those occasions leaves one with a brain fraught by mental rubble. Clear thinking becomes impossible when daily existence is mired down in empty headed minutia of sports and who is wearing what and fucking who. The projected mirror of consumer identities also known as the movies is no longer designed to fit the expansive proportions of what was once considered ‘normal’ expectations for a comfortable life. Like a bad suit of clothes marketed at a Costco or Target contemporary existence is currently designed for someone of perfect Asian dimensions but not for the traditionally bilious proportions of older Europeans.
One might notice that the ultimate goal of those leaving youth from adolescence is to get all inked up sporting a rock hard six-pack. A perfect analogy for a future lifetime of continual diminished expectations and life under corporate custodians that consider all others as marketable ‘human resources.’ The state created revolution of the Internet providing the ultimate Judas goat for societies foolish enough to post all their resources upon it’s butcher block platform. Life expectancy of the human mind will continue to plummet towards single digits as the modern urban primitive movement for nose rings takes virtual hold. The slippery hard rock of morals will erode to dust that will blow back and forth solely governed on self-interest in a manner that continues to appease the powers that be. If your offspring are lucky they may be accorded the occasional honor of prize bull or calf held at the annual culling of the herd. Perhaps at this point those Ranids known as our reader might notice that their limbs and torso are beginning to boil over a bit. That is because the fingers controlling the burners below the pot might be getting a bit more anxious for their nightly portion of cuisses de grenouilles!
The only factor that keep the entire planet of tirelessly marauding bipeds from annihilating each other completely is the incalculable factor of unexpected love for one’s fellow man and the regret for previous acts of unintended consequence. Consider that if the public application of same was applied as more than a miserly tincture to more than just passing infants locked in selfless struggles with puppy dogs, how different the world might be? The one place that Americans are swiftly escorted away from in public is the distress of themselves found at their weakest point before the mirror of their own inescapable truths. Consider that those in the business of the destruction are eventually spiritually consumed by it as if physically by a cancer. This is one of the most unspoken celestial mysteries of unacknowledged modern existence. The desire to eventually many years later confess one’s sins and be made all right by their acceptance by others for good or bad. Despite the intercession of perversely inspired social mechanisms of political control that feed upon these ingrained instincts, their expression is generally more powerful than the tinny cardboard passion play of publicly administered “Roman Rule.”
So many times some small transgression haunts one over the decades until it bubbles to the surface demanding the light of day to extinguish its gnawing existence from further burdening its owner. Officially we now publicly enjoy brief penitence without remorse but the scales of Anubis swing hard and eventually the center within the hard bitten shell like accretion of our psyche grows soft and rotten. To look upon the world with an inexplicable sense of concern for others, especially when this drive make one their own worst enemy if a form of positive self-destruction that brings one’s existence to a new level of appreciation. Compassion may have gone underground in this culture but never out of style. Something no one can control and yet no one else is able to mandate or demand of others.
Perhaps that is the real danger of abiding a technologically heavy super cult based upon adoration of machines that only recognize procedure and not the vague inconsistencies of the unpredictable phenomena of human nature is that they take us further from the ultimate solution of our own purpose and identity in this sense? Our self-proclaimed betters may pretend that they have a right by brute force and artful coercion to administer this form of supervision to all. But the fact of reality is that this will never be successfully taken over by some foolproof institutional form of ‘PC’ correcting mechanism that pretends to find useful efficiency in institutional political compromise to administer blindly upon the land. The human factor of real individuality simply does not abide by the rules of Capitalism and Karl Marx.
We are born into debt and from that point on work to free ourselves till we die. The course of one’s life becomes a foot race to keep our earnings staying ahead of our desires. Yet most are doomed to lose most if not everything and die penniless owing everything to the commonwealth of the larger ruling state. Most are taught from birth to endure this lifelong burden without protest while a few attempt to rebel. As a species, universal participation this system produces a mechanical sense of singular consciousness casting mankind as a whole in the guise of a virus besetting the insubstantial film of the surface of this planet. Like the proverbial bacteria consuming the skin of an orange, the collective fate of the species is to multiply and then crash repeatedly until extinction.
It seems somehow so contra-productive to be locked in a persistent struggle for existence that pits one group’s interests against those of another for the strategic fulfillment of a larger longterm goal. So many fictions abound that purposely run counter to the supposed opposite of others creating arbitrary frictions motivating the collective energies of each toward a lifelong devotion to material evolution. The significance of desirable objects whose simple possession alone bestows a magical status to one’s temporal existence, demonstrates that all are sleepwalking through this odd universe of human consciousness. Yet ironically, in this present system we are assigned a monetary value at birth like any other commercial asset and our toil becomes an annuity that the large entity of the nation derives its energy and locomotion from.
What after the satisfaction of basic animal desires can all mutually agree is an admirable goal? It certainly does not seem to be the giving of one’s full cooperation without paying the price of suffering exploitation by the apparent avarice of smaller groups of others. No, the primary goal of civilization is to ferret out the wildness of the human spirit and yoke it to some narrower undisclosed purpose that for most is never discernible over the entire course of their regimented lives. Their is ever talk of a ‘higher power’ and a transcendental destination where this force will deposit the highest achievers but one could equally surmise that this might equally be some unseen species taking determined larval advantage of our ignorance like any other parasitic form in nature’s large or small who derives lifelong benefit from its host. And like fruit flies, we must frequently ingest alcohol to periodically rid ourselves as individuals from the burden of awareness of this spiritually fatal menace. So whatever your own beliefs as an individual you might consider that the apparent boundaries of the universe and its unquenchable mystery are as tall and endless as our own rationale for understanding them is necessarily timed to be as short.