Hieroglyphs for Idiots: Drogen der Shrugs nicht!

In the destruction of true communication, our reduction to sound-bitten dialogue and orgiastic discussion threads of triviality or hostility completely severed from any reason to communicate at all, will be found the demise of the blood and tears literature written by the few driven by some motive beyond ego and profit. Even all the joy of a Henry Miller would today die unknown in the name of demographic monomania.

My own introduction to this follow-up from yesterday's entry originated as a Facebook status post. But I was allowed enough words in the news feed limit to summarize my upset: Not a single one of my two to three values is shared by the majority population. We are down to the two R's: reading and 'rithmetic. Don't confuse the latter with rhythm because the musical use of mathematics will send you directly to the jail of anonymity, in which all who bleed are persecuted by the ignorance in which they're engulfed: the instilled lack of curiosity; the trained obedience to bestseller charts as sources of what books and music to buy; the smear of the mirror.

I suggest that we free publishers of their sole occupation and simply let the population present writers a list of books the public will buy. A simple questionnaire will do: Let the fingers dial the demographic. This much we already know to expect: sympathetic characters; domesticalia sheared from a planet; and, above all, redemption.

Save us, Jesus! Why didn't You leave an autobiography or, better yet, memoir? You could have written it during Your days in the Judean desert, but You senselessly relied upon non-God/humans to convey the tale. They left varying accounts, producing relativity in the New Testament itself! Yet Your memoir would have outsold that New Testament, sending the latter and heftier text to the remainder tables.

And so it started long ago. Power relies upon confusion, and the creation of a confused population has been mastered to such a degree that no one even senses their own confusion. Every attempt to supplant language with math and science leaves even those with techno-aptitudes no means of communicating confusion. "Confusion" has no corresponding term in their 350-word vocabularies, only a gesture: the shrug.Ask anyone any question involving anything beyond what happened today and yesterday, current woes, the health or deaths of relatives, etc., and the shrug shall answer.

The Internet, our great and designed-to-fail global word monosyllabic fuckathon, only increases our subjugation to facile arguments and trivial intercourse, such that we may type LOL and IMHO and : ) and ; ) and so on until future archeologists will suspect we reverted to imbeciles trying to replicate hieroglyphs and, in the process, ruining even that as a means of escaping our incommunicable disease.

Yes, go and teach the young to understand books. Dream of buttressing their still-breathing curiosity. Insist a book is not a book but a means of altering consciousness more dangerous than any drug. Then you will discover that language is not amongst the nation's self-proclaimed "high needs." You, therefore, cannot even teach, a hopeless cause under administrative guard and the requirement of loyalty oaths!

Go your merry way. The roiling and unfurling future-now threatens only those who speak. Those who shrug present the very garden so ripe for fascist picking. You will not be plucked. Books will not be burned because the population would only shrug: "Not enough spectacle for us!" And this the very reason for the Orwellian Shift: The spectacle has begun to fail. Saturation point nears. A nap proves a threat, dreams beyond social control. Slap them awake!

"Gibt es ein Polizeirevier hier in der Nähe? Der Baum ist in dem starken Wind umgefallen!"