It appears that the next domino in the chain of consequence has begun falling. It could simply be shrugged off as the inevitable and obvious next phase. It couldn't have not happened because it had already been happening since before it actually happened. Many foresaw it as did I, but this would have been a perfect time to have been proven wrong... Wrong had little consequence: an apology, mild embarrassment. Some people simply never can admit to being wrong, but, of course, their consequence would have been greater than mine own. My losing face holds little risk for I am faceless, my losing faith holds little value for I am faithless.
When the cherry coke sponsored version of freedom looks like this nobody is free, or ever was.
The remaining dominoes are growing thinner than my patience, and I cannot, simply, change channels while the propaganda box is off. "This hour of rape and plunder was brought to you by whoever is betting against these mutual funds this week, so don't forget to buy yours today. And also in part by yummy yummy food aren't you hungry for yummy, yummy, food?" And the band played on...
Yes, happiness is just a purchase of useless crap away, they say... Maybe I am proof of 'they' being right as most of my possessions would fit in a hatchback, yet somehow I still believe my misery infiltrates me from far outside of myself.
Maybe I am just overly dramatic, I mean, really, what's a little sarin gas among friends? Right? Besides, wasn't this what they've been looking for since Iraq? I mean, they've been claiming Assad is brutally killing his own people for months now. So real WMDs must make everything not morally reprehensible, right? I guess that still depends on which direction your moral compass points, or whether you checked yours at the door as so many appear to have done. More obvious, still, is that there are some who've never gone back to search for theirs among the lost and found of a Los Vegas brothel where it was so conveniently misplaced.
[sigh]
I haven't seen the chants of the zombified mouth-breathers, yet, so maybe something is different this time around. Maybe the stun of the past week has not yet worn off... Wishful thinking and overtly optimistic, I know, but one can't help but hope that some red-line is crossed by the red-line drawers. Ultimately I risk my own sadness in telling myself such lies, but not telling myself disparages hope. I hope I am right, just as much as I had hoped I would be wrong. Maybe if the propaganda box were on I'd already be inescapably channel surfing those chants I've not yet seen...
I prefer the current silence to the chant of being proven wrong already, so I'll take that punch in the gut after I've gathered strength enough to lose my lunch... Like maybe after I've at least eaten lunch.
I have little doubt that I'll get to watch it all over again later today here in little-brother-land of 'me too' as though life had some instant replay... Maybe it's safest that I simply don't eat today, lest my meals hurl forth like dominoes in a chain...
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