// - Junkies
So here we are again in that season that asks us to buy, buy, buy, and sell our souls.
Don't tell me you haven't heard. Maybe you've even dropped a complaint or two about all the commercialism. While you were shopping at the mall.
All the pundits are preaching about it. They keep using the word consumer - a word that in itself is mass produced to meet the needs of those who still operate in the linguistic sphere. A word that we all feel does not quite apply to us. And why should we not feel justified by awareness? The information addicts all tell us that awareness is half the battle.
Too bad the battle always loses steam before the midline.
So we create these useless holidays, like Buy Nothing Day and Boycott Gas Day, and when Christmas rolls around, there's fifty feet of wrapping paper represented under your tree before you throw it away. And the stuff that was in the wrapping paper is often hit and miss. Junk. Timely junk, if that.
To what lengths are you willing to go to start the revolution of freedom? All of you, so proud of your crafts, your home made gifts? Where did you buy the materials? Everyone considers something made from plastic bottles to be worthless, so you go for readymade materials from the craft store. And did you think your aversion to Wal-Mart makes any difference when you make your monthly tour around Future Shop? Think again.
We are all addicts. Better a word that truly defines us - we're junkies. If you counted every item you owned, would the number hit 100,000? Even more perhaps? Would it surprise you? Do you ever consciously draw the line between want and need? Maybe it's all this stuff that weighs down your dreams of a better life for yourself. A better life for others.
Or would you rather hoard your junk and one day drown in it? There's gotta be something more to Christmas than gifts. Even family is a deficient concept for many of us. If there's nothing more to the Holiday Season than the aquiring of junk, count me out. Nothing is sacred, nothing is precious, nothing is true, pleasure is the only imperative. We have all become Epicurean, but none of us have found happiness.
The North American dream is built on plastic toys. Stuff. Junk. Doesn't that sound like fun? A dream built on nothing less than landfills.
Maybe there's one last addition to the addage. He who dies with the most toys never left the cave.
(1) - [The Beginning, the Story of Doubleslash] ( 2) - [The Dream] ( 3) - [Non-Existence] ( 4) - [Heterodox] ( 5) - [Forgotten] ( 6) - [Know Your Enemy] (7) - [Junkies]
Don't tell me you haven't heard. Maybe you've even dropped a complaint or two about all the commercialism. While you were shopping at the mall.
All the pundits are preaching about it. They keep using the word consumer - a word that in itself is mass produced to meet the needs of those who still operate in the linguistic sphere. A word that we all feel does not quite apply to us. And why should we not feel justified by awareness? The information addicts all tell us that awareness is half the battle.
Too bad the battle always loses steam before the midline.
So we create these useless holidays, like Buy Nothing Day and Boycott Gas Day, and when Christmas rolls around, there's fifty feet of wrapping paper represented under your tree before you throw it away. And the stuff that was in the wrapping paper is often hit and miss. Junk. Timely junk, if that.
To what lengths are you willing to go to start the revolution of freedom? All of you, so proud of your crafts, your home made gifts? Where did you buy the materials? Everyone considers something made from plastic bottles to be worthless, so you go for readymade materials from the craft store. And did you think your aversion to Wal-Mart makes any difference when you make your monthly tour around Future Shop? Think again.
We are all addicts. Better a word that truly defines us - we're junkies. If you counted every item you owned, would the number hit 100,000? Even more perhaps? Would it surprise you? Do you ever consciously draw the line between want and need? Maybe it's all this stuff that weighs down your dreams of a better life for yourself. A better life for others.
Or would you rather hoard your junk and one day drown in it? There's gotta be something more to Christmas than gifts. Even family is a deficient concept for many of us. If there's nothing more to the Holiday Season than the aquiring of junk, count me out. Nothing is sacred, nothing is precious, nothing is true, pleasure is the only imperative. We have all become Epicurean, but none of us have found happiness.
The North American dream is built on plastic toys. Stuff. Junk. Doesn't that sound like fun? A dream built on nothing less than landfills.
Maybe there's one last addition to the addage. He who dies with the most toys never left the cave.
(1) - [The Beginning, the Story of Doubleslash] ( 2) - [The Dream] ( 3) - [Non-Existence] ( 4) - [Heterodox] ( 5) - [Forgotten] ( 6) - [Know Your Enemy] (7) - [Junkies]