Catechism
I recommend this little catechism, to be read through in office hours whenever time hangs a little heavy.
Q. Why am I working here?
A. In order that the Jewish stockbrokers may exchange their Rovers for Armstrong-Siddeleys, buy the latest jazz records and spend the week-end at Brighton.
Q. Why do I go on working here?
A. In the hope that I too may some day be able to spend the weekend at Brighton.
Q. What is progress?
A. Progress is stockbrokers, more stockbrokers, and still more stockbrokers.
Q. What is the aim of social reformers?
A. The aim of social reformers is to create a state in which every individual enjoys the greatest possible amount of freedom and leisure.
Q. What will the citizens of this reformed state do with their freedom and leasure?
A. They will do, presumably, what the stockbrokers do with these things to-day, e.g. spend the week-end at Brighton, ride rapidly in motor vehicles and go to the theatre.
Q. On what condition can I live a life of contentment?
A. On the condition that you do not think.
Q. What is the function of newspapers, cinemas, radios, motorbikes, jazz bands, etc.?
A. The function of these things is the prevention of thought and the killing of time. They are the most powerful instruments of human happiness.
Q. What did Buddha consider the most deadly of the deadly sins?
A. Unawareness, stupidity.
Q. And what will happen if I make myself aware, if I actually begin to think?
A. Your swivel chair will turn into a trolley on the mountain railway, the office floor will gracefully slide away from beneath you and you will find yourself launched into the abyss.
Down, down, down! The sensation, though sickening, is really delightful. Most people, I know, find it too much for them and consequently cease to think, in which case the trolley reconverts itself into the swivel chair, the floor closes up, and the hours at the desk seem once more to be hours passed in a perfectly reasonably manner; or else, more rarely, flee in panic horror from the office to bury their heads like ostriches in religion or what not. For a strong-minded and intelligent person both courses are inadmissible; the first because it is stupid and the second because it is cowardly.
Excerpt is from Aldous Huxley's Those Barren Leaves. Any typos are my own. It probably needn't be said, but I do actually work hard, and this and this should probably give a fair indication as to why I don't associate anything with race. Now you'll excuse me while I go off to listen to some jazz...
Q. Why am I working here?
A. In order that the Jewish stockbrokers may exchange their Rovers for Armstrong-Siddeleys, buy the latest jazz records and spend the week-end at Brighton.
Q. Why do I go on working here?
A. In the hope that I too may some day be able to spend the weekend at Brighton.
Q. What is progress?
A. Progress is stockbrokers, more stockbrokers, and still more stockbrokers.
Q. What is the aim of social reformers?
A. The aim of social reformers is to create a state in which every individual enjoys the greatest possible amount of freedom and leisure.
Q. What will the citizens of this reformed state do with their freedom and leasure?
A. They will do, presumably, what the stockbrokers do with these things to-day, e.g. spend the week-end at Brighton, ride rapidly in motor vehicles and go to the theatre.
Q. On what condition can I live a life of contentment?
A. On the condition that you do not think.
Q. What is the function of newspapers, cinemas, radios, motorbikes, jazz bands, etc.?
A. The function of these things is the prevention of thought and the killing of time. They are the most powerful instruments of human happiness.
Q. What did Buddha consider the most deadly of the deadly sins?
A. Unawareness, stupidity.
Q. And what will happen if I make myself aware, if I actually begin to think?
A. Your swivel chair will turn into a trolley on the mountain railway, the office floor will gracefully slide away from beneath you and you will find yourself launched into the abyss.
Down, down, down! The sensation, though sickening, is really delightful. Most people, I know, find it too much for them and consequently cease to think, in which case the trolley reconverts itself into the swivel chair, the floor closes up, and the hours at the desk seem once more to be hours passed in a perfectly reasonably manner; or else, more rarely, flee in panic horror from the office to bury their heads like ostriches in religion or what not. For a strong-minded and intelligent person both courses are inadmissible; the first because it is stupid and the second because it is cowardly.
Excerpt is from Aldous Huxley's Those Barren Leaves. Any typos are my own. It probably needn't be said, but I do actually work hard, and this and this should probably give a fair indication as to why I don't associate anything with race. Now you'll excuse me while I go off to listen to some jazz...