Gee. I wonder where that came from.
Well, I don't really wonder at all, I think we all know where that came from. It was a message that circled the world in a day some few years ago and who'd have ever guessed it would have changed everything? But it sure did change everything. It ruined everything.
It ruined the unity we had, replacing it with disunity, which is of course very unpleasant. Then they told us, "You need your unity back, come let us bomb our way to unity". They just wanted their own kind of unity. They had to destroy the kind we already had first. Those 7 little words did a lot to accomplish that.
"You're with us or you're against us."
That one simple sentence set the precedent and the foundation for the world to enter into endless disunity, an endless disunity only they could fix. It's a message that provoked, that separated, that insulted, and that interfered with freedom on every conceivable level. It's a message that is presumptuous and sounds like nails on a blackboard to many, and like sweet sweet music to a small number of others.
To the die-hard followers of America, it sounded like the ultimate leadership symphony of their unfulfilled dreams had finally been written.
To the hard core self-superior militants of America it sounded like the music of their hearts desire, the march to victory.
The much longed for oh-come-ye symphony of the followers has always been a lot like Atlantis, being that it was a thrilling theory but did not exist in reality. At least not until those words were spoken. The followers found nirvana in those 7 little words, spoken by a leader who to them, emanated everything they'd been aching for since the misdeeds of 1776.
Here was a man who cared not for the thoughts, feelings, opinions or very real needs of others. He was all about himself and he said, "Screw everybody else. I want what I want and I'm taking it". To the followers that meant he had the strength of his convictions and whether or not those convictions were actually comprised of any virtue didn't matter. They wanted someone unwavering to follow and at long last, they found him. They are still intoxicated by his 'strength', long after most who initially embraced the man have rejected him and his contentious, small minded hypocritical brutal style. At least someone is happy around here. What's that old saying? Oh yes. Ignorance is bliss.
And the hard core self-superior militants were thrilled to bursting with those 7 little words, spoken with all of the hubris they so longed to hear. Their hungry dream had come into reality, and who couldn't appreciate the high of having your dream come true? They were on high because they would finally be totally free to approach the world with their one and only tool, an enormous gleaming and sooty hammer. No matter what problem arose on planet earth, the militants could now grab their hammer and yell, "Geronimo!", and descend to places far and wide where they'd appear with smiles, teeth gleaming in the daybreak. "Here I come to save the day!" is their theme song and they assume it's everybody's favorite song. In fact, they insist on it, or rather their leader insists on it.
It isn't everybody's favorite song of course, but it turns out if anyone admits that, they get the hammer. So we've all learned the words and the melody, and even if it chokes us, we'll hum along, or lip sync, at least as long as they're looking. And while we're finding it impossible to endure even one more note of that malodorous refrain, the militants are still swinging their hammer, and swinging their hammer, and swinging their hammer.
Surely, if they were using it properly they'd have built something by now. Surely, we should see a breath taking new city across the ocean, rising high above the din, inspiring awe in all who behold it. Surely there would be such an amazing new thing so beautiful and so filled with truth as to cause all hearts to swell and eyes to moisten around the world for all who see it; instead of endless acres of rubble and smoke and broken things and broken bodies. Surely. Zeus knows we've paid for it. My God have we paid for it.
But the hammer does not build, it only destroys what it touches. I wish they'd consider adding more tools to their tool kit, but they do seem to be absolutely enamored of their hammer. The multitrillion dollar hammer that only destroys.
The biggest chunk of our shared wealth goes to aid the pounding into dust of people and places far away. They aren't singing songs about us. They are not greeting us with flowers. They'd like us to stop pounding them now please, they've been saying so for years. Our reply? "Nonsense! Here we come to save the day and everybody wants their day saved! Carry on! Sally forth! Chin up! There is much yet to accomplish! We shall not leave until the whole place is in ruins!"
It's a bit like burning down the house to get rid of mice, only it's a hell of a lot more expensive. And destructive. And ultimately it's become sickening to the soul of the world, which is bent over puking its guts out.
Whatever happened to listening? Do we not all have ears? I know we do. We are listening. The problem is what we are listening to. The voice. The solo voice that is coming out of the mouths of the only people who have access to the major streams of information broadcasting in the country. They're all the same damn voice. They look different, they have different hair and different genders, but when they open their mouths it's as though they're channeling the same spirit from beyond.
Could it be they're all possessed? Do we need to hold a gigantic national exorcism? We'll be up to our fannies in pea soup if that's the case, because this is one powerful, pervasive spirit. Unfortunately, it seems to have also possessed a major avenue of having it exorcised. The church has also come under its spell. They too are showing all of the signs: the spinning heads, the speaking strange words that defy decency, the dark pleasure of offending onlookers. The arrogance. The depraved indifference to the innocent, the blindness to and dismissal of the truth. They've become the willing partners of the dark force and no longer seem able to notice how much they've changed into something frightening to behold.
We do have a problem on our hands. I have no idea how to exorcise an entire nation of it's demon. It may just be that it has to wear itself out, after a ravenous glut spanning decades, after its blood feast and subsequent defecation, after changing our golden panorama into a barren dung heaped prairie that will take 4 million years to stop being radioactive before we can send in the pooper scoopers. Say, that would be a good job for the militants. They should honestly be charged with some of their own clean up, it's only fair. But all they've got is their hammer. They can't scoop poop with a hammer.
Oh trouble and worry and strife. Frustration and stupidity and zeal. We never run out of those things, they're abundant. Why on earth haven't the hot-rod kings of free money for the rich figured out a way to get those commodities on the markets? Maybe it's because those are the things they leave in their trail of exhaust as they zoom by, leaving our clothing in shreds and our hair tied in impossible knots. Thanks financiers. How can we ever repay you? We'd like to, believe me, we'd really like to.
It seems like this teeming sea of individuals we call America cannot find center and focus, each one, one at a time, and then once more all together again. No one remembers that if we wanted to we could look at one another and say, "I disagree with every single word you just said, but I'd fight to the death for your right to say them". We find the idea of those words revolting. We've totally forgotten what freedom means.
We no longer care about making a welcoming world where everyone can be who they are, and not have to endure relentless attacks based on the inescapable reality that we are not all the same and never can be. It's not a problem, it's just plain old reality. It's the way things must be, the only way they can be. But now the groups are clamoring and contriving up ways to eliminate those of unlike mind.
What we need is some silence. A great shared moment of silence. A few weeks of nothing streaming into our heads from outside of our heads, intruding, always unasked for, always full of content we never pre-approved. A couple of months, or better yet years, to allow our own thoughts to form and take shape again, to guide ourselves again from within, each one, one by one, regaining ownership and control of our own unique being.
But it's too noisy to concentrate. It's too busy to find a peaceful place to sit down and sink into the mossy bank of a sweet smelling freshwater stream, to inhale the musky smell of nature and exhale the cares of the silly ass world. I think we need to do that, and I think we'd be a lot more likely to do it if it weren't for all that damned interference. Those outer signals demanding our full attention. Absorbing our entire mental output. Forcing us along whether we want to go along or not.
It's unnatural you know. Our thoughts are supposed to be self-generated. That's why we each have our own head. We are not the Borg. Let me restate that, we are not supposed to be the Borg. The idea of mass conformity should repel us in no uncertain terms. We're supposed to question authority, question everything, and refuse to comply with stupidity for the simple reason we don't have to. We're supposed to laugh at foolish men not reward them with our loyalty. We're supposed to have enough sense to know right from wrong and care about the difference. It's not like we need to be told what they are, we know. At least we should know. But the voice, the interference, that nonstop droning on that is quickly redefining the country, that is turning it inside out and upside down, that is sucking the life out of us, draining us of prosperity and good will, that voice will not shut up. All day. Every single day. Every moment of every day of our lives, that voice drones on and on. Demanding. Lying. Hating. Undermining. Interfering. It's stealing America, one mind at a time.
Like a great floating invisible spider it injects it's numbing poison under the skin, paralyzing the brain so that it can no longer feel or generate a response. Then it feeds. It sucks the brains out and gulps them down then fills the cavity with that voice. It says, "This is up!" and then presses the down button and nobody notices.
A few do notice. And they are quickly branded dissident, loony, crazy. Yes I'm crazy. I can see with my own two eyes and hear with my own two ears, and think with my own personal brain which is not hooked into the central core computer. It rejects the voice, physically. The voice makes me ill, literally. I know that voice is the voice of death. If they stopped calling me names I'd know something was wrong, the last thing I want is their doting admiration. I want to offend them, they deserve it. I want to shock them back into reality. I want them to find their own center and disconnect from the hive core, to stop taking its orders, to start breathing again, to start seeing again, to start loving the world and everyone and everything in it again.
I don't want much, do I? I just want to live in a world where people recognize there's nothing that hard about being decent to one another. There's enough to go around. There's no need to tear anyone to shreds. We can handle the differences, they really aren't all that different. We will always have so much more in common than not, but all we can see anymore are those differences, those things that add the spice and variety that makes it all so worthwhile. Now we see those differences as a threat. They are a threat, to the hive. To the drive for conformity. To the desire to create a bland sea of all-the-same nodes, being compliant and obedient to the voice, bowing and curtseying on cue, until the steps are deeply memorized and no one ever disagrees. How that can be anybody's idea of perfection eludes me. How a nation who believes in freedom can embrace that does not make sense. But there it is anyway.
Damned interference. If we could only pull the plug. If we could pull the plug and experience the sudden end of the electronic signals, that amazing moment when all of the tension leaves the body and we're suddenly aware of how noisy it's all been. When the silence is immediately calming and delicious and we want to turn around and hug somebody and kiss them on the forehead and say, "What on earth got into me? Let's take a walk, shall we? It's a lovely day".
I want to pull the plug on all of that interference, but I can't do it for anyone but myself. Everyone will have to unplug themselves to grab their freedom back. I do believe it's the only way we'll ever get out of this nightmare. But is it too late? Do all of these people actually want to be plugged in to the Borg core interface? Is 24 hour interference the new reality? Is interference the new normal? It truly frightens me to the bone. It just may be.
And I may be the last of a small dying breed, a group without a name, without a core, without a membership. The next endangered species that nobody much cares about anyway. The good news is when I'm gone, when all of those like me are gone, no one will grieve. No one will notice. No one will care. No one will even understand what I was or what I was talking about. They'd laugh and say, "My goodness what an odd malformation of the hive. It happens. There's no comprehending it, it's better that they're all gone. Silly creatures with their nonsensical babble. They sounded so foolish. Too stupid to recognize how ridiculous they were. It's best they're gone."
Indeed. The age of the hive is upon us. All hail interference. Either that or go get yourself some earplugs.