Fearless Advertising

I wish to speak only in clichés in order to punish myself for being the way that I am. I am always trying to think of ways of punishing myself for being the way that I am. I find myself wondering if it is wrong to have low self-esteem. Does that mean I’m a worthless person? Does that mean I’m no good?

 

I wish that I were, I wish that I were, I say by reflex. I wish that I were, I wish that I were… Is it possible, I ask myself soberly, that there could be such a thing as a creature that spends its entire life saying (or thinking) I wish that I were, I wish that I were, I wish that I were, to absolutely no avail whatsoever? Moreover, could it be possible for there to be such a thing as a creature that is constantly wishing for some status or condition in life, other than its own, when this wished-for status or condition is in fact impossible, or perhaps simply nonsensical or absurd. Is that possible, and – if so – what is this philosophical significance such a thing?

 

‘Creating Fearless Entertainment,’ it says proudly in big letters on the side of the white van that has just pulled out of the parking lot near where I am sitting. That’s the punishment that belongs rightfully to all of us – to live in a world that’s full of meaningless advertising slogans. It’s a degraded environment, you see. Information has been degraded to the point where it is now simply taking the piss. Is it possible to create a world that has the sole function of taking the piss out of those who live in it, I wonder. Could that really be possible?

 

No matter where you might go on the surface of this middle-aged planet of ours it is always possible to stream world-class entertainment. That’s one thing I’ve learned. I learned that from an advertising billboard in Renmore. New Improved Reality, brought to you by your Friends with the Know-How. Brought to you by the Archon Corporation. We praise the Archon Corporation, of course. We praise it fervently and without ever taking a break, our mouths moving rapidly and repetitively. Our mouths have become absurd, as if they are creatures in their own right – they are shapes of insensate grey protoplasm with wobbling blobby apertures that are babbling words that mean nothing. These ‘mouth creatures’ don’t belong to us anymore.

 

No matter where you go on this fine planet of ours, high quality entertainment is available free of charge. That’s the kind of utopia we live in – there are six possible kinds of utopia and this is one of them. You can live-stream your own life. It’s partially corrupted and full of adverts of course but that’s only to be expected. Courtesy of the Archon Corporation again, needless to say. We don’t need to say it but we’ll say it anyway! Say it and be done with it. Say it like it is and to hell with the consequences. That’s Fearless Entertainment for you – we are all addicts of Fearless Entertainment on this planet and I can tell you that for nothing. That information comes free of charge.

 

This does seem to raise the sober question as to what we are supposed to do when the day arrives when our own lives fail to entertain us adequately. What’s the next step when that happens, in other words? You can usually tell when this is the case because you start to realise that the adverts for whatever noxious products they are trying to sell you are now more interesting than your actual life, such as it is. Such as it has become. That’s ‘So-and-So’s Law of Bad TV’, isn’t it? Whoever’s law it is. About when the ads get to be more vivacious and original than the actual show you’re watching. That’s bad shit when that happens for sure. Real bad shit. It’s not that the ads are good you understand; the ads are dire. They are unspeakably dire. It’s just that they are better than your life. Better by a significant margin, in fact.

 

Thought-forms are coming down the road towards you. A great confused mass of thought-forms, like a tumult of chaotic black smoke, coming straight towards you at a hell of a  pace. Bells are ringing, car alarms are going off, donkeys are braying, red-faced policemen on bicycles are blowing their whistles furiously. It’s your life, someone tells you, you want to get out of the way of that shit. That shit will eat you alive, so it will. You can’t get out of the way though. You haven’t a chance. You never did have a chance. Bells are ringing and car alarms are going off like crazy all over the place. All hell is breaking loose. A policeman is shouting at the top of his voice but you can’t hear what he’s saying. There’s nothing but confusion and fear and loud noises. The smoke is enveloping you and you’ve no idea what’s happening anymore…

 

 

 

 

 

 

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