Not much is known about Taylor. Each day he wakes at 5 AM to get ready for work. His job isn’t crucial to the company. They could find hundreds that would clamor for the chance to replace him behind the counter. Why are so many reserve labor substitutes waiting in the wings? Possibly it is the population that has doubled in the past forty years? Far too many poor citizens are just existing – not even able to pay their bills.
Tired, worn down by battle after battle these fingers still write out lines in the hope that empathy will flutter into stone cold hearts. Don’t these poorest of working citizens deserve to earn subsistence wages? Isn’t that all their demanding? You may be a bitter hateful executive who works seventy hours per week dreaming to find precious time to spend all that cash stuffed in your Swiss account. Maybe, that is why your heart is almost petrified. So you see, the beast we’re living under is crushing all of us in unique ways.
If it is an unsustainable lifestyle that all of us are clicking off like prisoners chalking up the cell walls with a daily white line possibly we need an entirely novel alternative to this extreme capitalist grind?
Those on the other side of the counter serving you look at you like you’ve stolen a pot-o-gold not realizing that the parties are becoming scarcer. Even the perks within the money sick society are now nothing more than points to be measured against fellow scoundrels.
So you drain a few paltry millions every year from bank accounts. You’ll never ever liquidate the principle because that loot is being sucked up from below faster than it can be spent. Why not give your fellow human beings some of that money so that their lives may be a tad easier. It is just possible that the gal in the brown company uniform may be a savior in disguise. By helping empower the majority a roaring engine of ingenuity may deliver us from this distorted societal tragedy that was never intended to evoke happiness.
These fingers are typing words that will probably infuriate the People’s Movement. My pride and joy is intended to be an enlightened response to a manipulated socio-economic disaster not just a rant. Analysis is a tricky business but even more slippery when demons are conjured up. That is why for once no demons rear their ugly heads in this essay. They’ve been temporarily slayed by logic.
Reason is propelling this breaking out from the silo. Exhaustion is definitely a better term to explain the slow strokes of thin appendages pressing keys. These simple key strokes are crossing the Rubicon into the uncharted land of princes to elicit recognition that we’re all just pawns in a grand scheme that now leads nowhere but straight to a damp hole in our favorite cemetery. Now these pecking flesh covered bones wired to a brain that loves to observe and contemplate reels at the insanity of it all.
Warning, warning, warning…