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Black Mirror 15 thousand merits speech.
I haven’t got a speech, I didn’t plan words, I didn’t even try to, I just knew I had to get here, to stand here and I knew I wanted you to listen, to really listen. Not just pull a face like you’re listening, like you do the rest of the time, a face that you’re feeling instead of processing.
You pull a face and poke it towards the stage, and we lah-di-dah, we sing and dance and tumble around. And all you see up here, it’s not people, you don’t see people up here, it’s all fodder. And the faker the fodder, the more you love it, because fake fodder’s the only thing that works any more. Fake fodder is all we can stomach. Actually, not quite all; real pain, real viciousness, that, we can take.
Yeah, stick a fat man up a pole and we’ll laugh ourselves feral, because we’ve earned the right. We’ve done cell time and he’s slacking, the scum, so ha-ha-ha at him! Because we’re so out of our minds with desperation, we don’t know any better. All we know is fake fodder and buying shit. That’s how we speak to each other, how we express ourselves is buying shit.
What, I have a dream? The peak of our dreams is a new app for our Dopple, it doesn’t exist! It’s not even there! We buy shit that’s not even there. Show us something real and free and beautiful. You couldn’t Yeah? It’ll break us. We’re too numb for it. I might as well choke. There’s only so much wonder we can bear. That’s why when you find any wonder whatsoever, you dole it out in meager portions.
And only then until it’s augmented, and packaged, and plumped through 10,000 pre-assigned filters till it’s nothing more than a meaningless series of lights, while we ride day in day out, going where? Powering what? All tiny cells and tiny screens and bigger cells and bigger screens and fuck you!
Fuck you, that’s what it boils down to. It’s fuck you. Fuck you for sitting there and slowly making things worse. Fuck you and your spotlight and your sanctimonious faces. Fuck you all for taking the one thing I ever came close to anything real that every meant anything. For oozing around it and crushing it into a bone, into a joke. One more ugly joke in a kingdom of millions. Fuck you for happening. Fuck you for me, for us, for everyone. Fuck you!
Going to school shouldn’t be synonymous with getting into debt. I can’t even get a part time job and now I’m supposed to start saddling myself with debt that could quite possibly take my whole life to pay off just so I *might* be able to get a job afterwards, which is highly unlikely unless I go to grad school, assigning myself more debt and before you try to deny that or argue that, my school program advisor even said “it doesn’t really matter what you choose to do your bachelor in, because it’s not really good for anything unless you continue it”. Fucking hate our school system.
“In his desire to have and to enjoy rather than to be and to grow, man consumes the resources of the earth and his own life in an excessive and disordered way...Instead of carrying out his role as a co-operator with God in the work of creation, man sets himself up in place of God and thus ends up provoking a rebellion on the part of nature, which is more tyrannized than governed by him.”—John Paul II, Centesimus Annus
“You buy furniture, you tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need in my life. buy the sofa, then for a couple of years you're satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you've got your sofa issue handled, then the right set of dishes, then the perfect bed. The drapes. The rug. Then you're trapped in your lovely nest, and the things that you used to own, now they own you.”—Chuck Palahniuk
Imagine if people stopped obsessing over their wallets, at their clothes, at their shoes, at the stuff they “own”, at the commercials brainwashing people to focus on themselves… and started looking at the people right next to them: at the hearts they left behind on the way to getting stinkin’ rich, at the kids they take to be nothing more than insurance of their posthumous pride and legacy and mana, at the people on the street they snub before entering their limousines (or one of their seven other cars).
Imagine if we started being a bit grateful, even grateful for the fact that we even have toilets to sit on, to poop in at night, whereas half-way across the globe people would stare in disbelief at us flushing the equivalent of liquid gold (a.k.a. water) down the drain with our shit.
Here we lie content in our ignorance, choosing to look away, choosing to deny the truth and the cost of our denial. Here we’re agonizing over Gucci, Topman, Prada, Shoemart, Armani, etc. that all sell basically the same things, over-priced by virtue of a stamped brand name and advertising, and of course, all made in China/Haiti/Nairobi/Mexico or some other third world country…sweatshops anyone?
Imagine if people stopped watching TV and picked up a book for a change. Imagine if people actually started to think. Imagine if people chose to love, and really love, not fixate on the idea of cheap romance or sex - all that meaningless, senseless drivel the world passes off as true love.
Child, what you own does not make you who you are. You are not what you own.
We live in society that has been sold the concept that happiness is conditional. In order to be happy and fulfilled, you need nothing. When everyone has nothing, there will no longer be crime, wars, or aggression.
Nothing produces adverse side effects that are far too numerous to list. However nothing is 100% safe for people of all ages. Nothing is 100% ecologically responsible green product. Zero resources are consumed in its production. Nothing is 100% adaptable to any environment. It requires no storage space, yet can expand to fill any volume. Nothing travels well, and effectively reduces time spent in airport security, customs, and baggage claim.