I never learn. I was hoping the cushions would be dry. But, no. This morning I must sit on a hard bench instead. Middle class white guy problems.
Sunday and Portland is slowly awakening around seven am. Once again the crows and scrub Jays dominate the narrative, but traffic and car doors shutting remind me of where I am. I'm in the world of people.
I am a slave. I was born into a slave system that is deceptive and effective enough to keep the enslaved unaware of their servitude. Carefully executed agendas have stayed mostly unexposed until this information age finally took hold.
I have the freedom to say what I want. I can travel the world freely if I wish. I can own stuff. I can even defend my freedom and stuff with firearms. Who in their right minds would consider this slavery?
The Boy Scouts trained me for the military under the guise of "learning preparedness". I was one of the better marksmen in my troop. Though it was only a .22 caliber rifle, I was firing a weapon at age 11.
The endgame for my twelve years of public school was to get a job. Working for someone. Work for someone else. Pay fucking taxes.
While employed, we see others with nicer stuff than our own. Envy kicks in. The bank lowers the worm on the hook, offering me better stuff now that I can earn later. You know where this is going.
Keeping us in debt assures the wealthy, through their governmental proxies and other schemes, that we will stay quiet, continue to pour our lives into the workforce, stay intoxicated, distracted and spend our lives making them wealthier.
I didn't see it coming.
I remember in school when some student would question the purpose of learning history. It was always answered with something like "so we can learn from our mistakes and not repeat them".
The history textbooks were a beautiful tool to control and shape america's youth. More than the inaccuracies, the omissions of historical truths painted a picture for us. A picture of America being just, honorable and all about liberty and freedom.
With this mindset, it didn't bother me to follow the status quo. People I admired did so.
So I sit on this hard bench, with a computer in my hands. I am on property owned by a bank, with legal papers binding me to pay for it. I have toys, conveniences, stuff and things to keep me content. Keep me working. Keep me from challenging the elites of the world. Go ahead and tempt me with the allure of more things to borrow for, you bastards!
So my wife and I will slowly pay hundreds of thousands of these imaginary "dollars" until we are too old or too sick to care. But in the mean time we have a secret.
We are happy and don't give a rusty fuck! You rich pricks go ahead and manipulate the shit out of me, show me your new toys to envy. I'll play along on the outside. I'll remain apathetic and fat in spite of you. On the outside.
Inside is where my freedom lies. In every second of each day I can love freely. I can think freely. Unless, wait... They drug me to manipulate that, too!
Where's my coffee. What kind of beer tonight? Did I take my antidepressants today? How's my blood pressure?