In this country we talk a good game about our individualism; about how we stand apart from the rest of the patsies walking this cruel world. You can see it in the resolute faces standing up to all the forces that would consume them. Shouting. Complaining. Venting their spleens as all good Americans have done in our two plus centuries of existence.
But it is ephemeral.
Unlike the pioneers who came before us, there are no more frontiers to run off to when civilization cuts too close to the bone. Our option, in this the twenty-first century, is go off grid, as the euphemism goes. Growing our own crops, building our own mud huts, and being eaten by bears. It's a nice idea, much like our rugged individualism. It's not reality, but who cares. We can foster any delusion we choose to. We're Americans, dammit!! We've got our first amendment rights. We're packing heat; so all you pointy headed bureaucrats watch out or we'll..............., well I don't know if we've quite got that figured out, but we're armed to the teeth. We'll throw down the government, retake the country, and remake it in whatever Hollywood vision suits us. I don't think we'd actually want to go back to the halcyon days of yore, after all people died young, worked six, seven days a week, didn't have refrigerators or McDonald's, and actually feared being eaten by bears. Business was ruthless, and labor ( that would have been most of us ) took what they could get, because the option was starvation. Think I'm kidding? Look it up.
Sure it all looks good through the gauzy haze of make believe, but it's not realistic, any more than giving the great plains back to the Lakota is, although the Lakota would probably be quite pleased.
No, our great conundrum, my little droogies, is that we are or have become a commodity, and that's what bites so hard. Historically, there have been the rulers and the rest of us. Those of us bathed in the glow of middle class suburbia would have a hard time reconciling ourselves to the position of landless labor, serf, or slave. Most of us would delusionally see ourselves as Caesars, kings, and marauders such as the great Genghis. But that's unlikely. More likely we'd be cannon fodder, servants; of the house or of the land, maybe craftsmen if we belonged to a guild, or merchants, which might or might not be a good thing depending on the age. Maybe you'd could be in the usury business, but those folks were universally hated, much as they are these days.
So where does that leave us?
At work you are a resource to be managed, utilized, outsourced, reorganized, or downsized. It isn't personal; it's business. It's important to be clear eyed about these things less ye be fed to the bears and left for dead. This is the land of opportunity just so you know. Any number of sages will assuage you of your fears and send you down the road of enlightenment once you buy their latest book, or CD, or pay your subscription to their website. These are the same thoughtful souls who promised you could make millions flipping houses with no money down. That circumstances, social position, and luck might play a part in success is of no matter.
When you're sick, you're a customer; a value based on what your insurance, if you have it, your savings, or that charity care will provide. Think insurance companies dwell on poor Jimmy's plight or intrinsic value to society when deciding whether to pay for that coronary bypass? Doubtful. It's an expense to be balanced against revenues, and as we all know no business stays in business when expenses exceed revenues. So if instead of a new heart you get a shot of morphine and "you've lived a good life ". Don't take it personally; it's business. It's your turn to go.
Makes you want to go out and buy something doesn't it? Good. How the hell else are we going to dig ourselves out of this mess. Consumption, conspicuous or otherwise, is what we do. It's what our economy is geared towards. perhaps a few boobs go on about a better world, or making the most of the time we have, but, come on; that ain't gonna happen. There's no money in it. We're on this earth to buy stuff whether we need it or not.
Feel better? Some will, and some won't. Some will accept their fate and be laconically washed out with the tide. Others will bray at the horror; the horror, stomp their feet, scream and yell, make threats, and then vote in some moron who tells them what they want to hear. That the moron won't deliver is politics as usual. After much exhaustion he too, will be pummeled and washed out with the tide. It's all too beautiful.
Don't take it personally; it's just business.
