Bonhomie Or The World's Tiz-woz?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic

FINAL CHAPTER

A Staffordshire Bull Terrier now has Daffy Duck pinned to the ground. Close your eyes. Cover your ears. There won't be much left of the wholesome Warner Bros character. Oh, well, you just gotta carry on, I suppose . . .

 

 

 

Stop whatever you're doing. Look around you. An organized body of 'political correctness' has, it seems, been working its magic. At first, all this systematic blue-pencilling gave a false impression of a wider consensus. But then the sleeping giant of 'progressive censorship' started cracking its knuckles. Things have become acceptable - SANITIZED - more and more policed! It's oh-so-squeaky clean. Nothing is 'on fire' any more. Nothing has any physical clout. In a digital sense, the world has thrown down the gauntlet - to itself. It's all 10 to the 12th power. Jump on board the ELO starship. Somewhere - across voids of dark matter - the intergalactic Wizard of Oz awaits our arrival. We think all our biggest questions are going to be answered - the meaning of life explained. But instead we are each handed the latest in slimline Super AMOLED displays. It's a phonetic too-shay moment for tens of thousands of people: to caress this thin-as-a-credit-card smartphone. A sea of oohs and wows respond to new depths in pixel resolution, Singularity Blacks, and high contrast ratio. Epiphanies can wait. Anyway we can always smoke some spice and stare at the Artexed ceiling once we get back home.

 

I just think the world's biomass of Joe Sixpacks and Average Janes should, well . . . be careful. S'pose, in their ignorance, they unleash a Japanese knotweed of hexadecimal code - an immune deficiency response to their own exponential growth. A dystopia: of 'greyscale' ecophagy - planet Earth covered in a 'quantum goo' of nanobot excrement! Seriously, there are, believe it or not, decision trees illustrating the 'chance events' and 'outcomes' of the touchscreen age. And these tree-like models, ironically, employ the same frantic cell-division to plot contingency strategies.

 

As a writer, I am compelled to seize the opportune moment: to self-actualize. You don't, in your naivety, wait for love, peace and harmony. Hasn't the last six months been enough of a catalyst? The 2020 Truman Show . . . lights, camera, action - cut-and-paste! TOUT THE PRODUCT, NOT THE PROCESS! Smokescreens can - and often are - the sole cause of unintended consequences. Recrudescence rolling on and on - INDEFINITELY! I just wanna know: is it a 'genuine' avian heart attack, or a real canary-in-the-coal-mine scenario? Nothing at all to do with 'unfettered predatory corporate behaviour' running amok, er - of course not! (emphasis added). A self-deprecating approach to all this is only going to have you 'blogging your way through life'. Lists of 'coping mechanisms' Sellotaped to your fridge freezer are just cues for what you already do anyway. Are you sure you don't have . . . Aspie tendencies? Don't wait for the canned laughter. Act now. Is, for instance, that Boris Vallejo poster still above your double bed? Are you still listening to Hold On by Wilson Phillips? You need to 'Tron yourself' back to the here and now. So I recommend After Hours by The Weeknd. There's a reason for the Band-Aid across his nose (and macabre obsession with blood). Nevada life really brings it all home. You're treated to a bit of everything: consumerism, 'electropollution', and what's currently trending - Christ, take your pick! It's a DSM-5 page-turner of psychoneurosis, so go ahead, gorge yourself just like the Weeknd does in his videos. Vegas at its best - with a haze of metallic salts chemtrailed above the skyline.

 

Not all forms of satire, I appreciate, are able to cross cultural barriers. It can be . . . misconstrued. The author must have a thick skin. In the eyes of many, he/she might be seen as arrogant - flaunting their wares, so to speak. It's only natural to feel the rug has been pulled from your feet. Some spoofs ease you into the deception - holding your hand along the way. Others just go straight for the uppercut - pow! It's just a bit of fun. If, though, you take the moral high ground, then you seriously need to chill-the-fuck-out - get over yourself! But if you've risen to the occasion, then you're a bloody good sport - and all kudos to you.


Submitted: November 15, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Jobe Rubens. All rights reserved.

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