Root of All Evil

A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, there was absolute freedom. This period existed in the distant past. People ventured outside of their caves and into the outside world. This is not meant metaphorically as in staying in your home planning dates on matchmaker, masturbating, or “friending” people staying in, but as chained to a wall, while some unknown specter cast shadowed realities on a screen in front of you staying in. Plato’s cave allegory, which is required-reading of just about every undergraduate everywhere said, “The visible is a shadow cast by the invisible.” You know, “The Matrix argument.” Am I dreaming or maybe it's a dream within a dream? How about a nightmare inside a sex dream? A girl wearing a Scream mask seductively singing R. Kelly. No. This is not a dream. 

A greasy man with a greasy smile holding his hand behind his back forced a lie on the innocent people of this world. He gave us comfort and material possessions that kept us complacent, obedient, and entertained. We have pulled back the curtains and we have seen Oz. Slavery was never abolished. What little cliché teenage angst is left in me makes me sick when I say this, but we are all slaves. Working all day, every day, breaking your back, exhausted, drenched in sweat, and frustrated. It’s like being in a jail with a really big yard. Luckily in return for your hard work you receive a piece of paper with an old man's face on it that will provide food, shelter, and presumably happiness. A piece of cotton that carries a promise that someone somewhere will accept it in exchange for food, clothes, or shelter. Want to go hunt for your food? Want to revisit your animal instincts by being self-sufficient? Want to feed yourself under your own power? Too bad. There’s a zoo a couple blocks from here and the groundskeeper has a hunting rifle. 

What was this dastardly farce I speak of? And if the truth came out, what would happen? The general social fabric and structure of our society and modern civilization would crumble. Archaic pelf, funds, capital, coin, currency, bills, notes, dough, bread, loot, greenbacks, moola, dinero, shekels, mazuma, the means, the wherewithal, talking about cash, Quan, dough, green, cabbage, ducketts, boxes of ziti, you name it. The only name that matters is Benjamin Franklin. 

"If a man empties his purse into his head no one can take it away from him. An investment in knowledge always pays the best interest."
If you view money as an unnecessary evil you will be viewed as a miser, a broke bastard, a penniless hermit, with no desire outside of indigent squalor. You become penurious and parsimonious. You become stingy. You are destitute. You’re poor. But you’re FreeThe tautology in itself is enslaving. The needless repetition of the idea, especially in words other than those of the immediate context, saturates your psyche without imparting any actual additional force or legitimacy. A compound prepositional form whose instances are always true, as in it's either “A or not A.” To be or not to be. That is the question? Isn’t it? But by definition is irrelevant. 

Right or wrong. Black or White. Good or Evil. Saying, “This candidate will win or will not win.” You have no reason to believe that the foremost is the emphasis or the latter. Will he win, really? What if he loses? Why do we believe good will always triumph over evil? There isn’t any evidence to support such a cause, it's simply a matter of emphasis. It’s the continual repetition of a phrase or thought. Something you can’t help but think about. It controls your action. It isn’t that you’ve told yourself a lie so many times you start to think it’s true. It’s knowing the truth and still believe the lie. Some would call it faith. But it’s still a lie. 

“I find capitalism repugnant. It is filthy, it is gross, it is alienating because it causes war, hypocrisy, and competition.”
- Fidel Castro
I had an endless playlist running through my head while writing this. Pink Floyd. Bowie. Fitz and the Tantrums. Aloe Blacc. The O Jay's for the love of money. Pusherman. Pay to the piper. Money in the bank. Plenty Money. Gimme the loot. But there is only one song that captures my feelings. Only one song encapsulates my point. My jam of the week: 

Search your feelings