Pilgrims emerge from their dwellings, bringing their barter items of plastic cards to prepare for the festival of the dead tree. An afterthought to a large meal. Turkey, pork, peas, instant mashed potatoes. It’s the same every year. A tradition. Winding up the cleaning up of yards full of fallen leaves to stuff bellies and march into shopping areas for that crucial sale that will make or break the bank.
It’s Thanksgiving in the 21st Century, but not really. Nothing really different. We’re not floating on anti-grav boots while dirigible barges float into the neighborhood with commercial wares. We’re not taking moon trips to take part in year-end earth-viewing.
No, we’re really just treading water. Letting bandits and bullies take what they want. Hoping they won’t take too much and leave a few morsels for us. Pretending there isn’t enough to go around because we’re too afraid to let loose. Turning on the boob tube (now with 1,000+ channels) soaking in whatever it is the handful of major media companies wish to flypost our minds with. We find our niche. We find the drug we like and we are transfixed. We hang on to our brand that aligns with our lifestyle.
Don’t like the ‘lamestream’ media? Switch to Fox News? Don’t like conservative propaganda? Switch to MSNBC’s brand of ‘progressive’ propaganda. Don’t like overt propaganda? Switch to a movie or a show. Find your friendly frequency. Find what makes you most comfortable. Dig it. Dig in.
Whatever you do, try to avoid any actual human interaction. Go online. Chat. Text. Become a cyberpunk. Become a hacker. But please don’t dwell on anything too long. It’s time for your medicine. Take a pill. Take a drink. Eat a burger. Have fun! As long as you don’t talk to anyone directly.
Swatting At Flies 