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Protests and Dreams

High school students turned out in the thousands yesterday to protest the American political establishment’s lackluster response to the Parkland shootings.

I love these kids.

College students, of course, can’t protest anymore since the American system of higher education has deteriorated to the point where if you’re gonna participate, you basically have to sign up for several decades of indentured servitude after you matriculate.

That’s what the whole school loan industry is really about.

And it’s been hammered into people’s heads: You have to go to college. Otherwise your only job opportunities will be greeting at Walmart or fulfilling orders for cat toys on the Amazon assembly line.

Cue Tennessee Ernie Ford: I owe my soul to the company store.

The Millennial generation's dirty little secret?

They're owned.

If your entire financial future is on the line, you can’t afford to offend the wrong people.

Da Man owns you.

The kids in this photograph aren’t owned yet.

Maybe they’ll never be owned.

Maybe they’ll rise up, throw off the shackles.

There are so many shackles. And I can dream, right?


Speaking of dreams… I had a really long, visionary one last night, but all I can remember about it now was that it took place in the future. I was a kind of judge for something like the Coney Island Mermaid Parade. Instead of costumes, people were parading with all sorts of colorful and ingenious genitalia since in this far off future, reproduction had been uncoupled entirely from human flesh, the equivalent of 3-D printers were readily available for all kinds of phantasmagoric body mods, and there was no need whatsoever for any sort of binary gender or even sexuality as we 21st century humans know it, since stimulating any spot on these futuristic humans’ bodies could yield fantastically pleasurable orgasms.

Genital sexuality had kind of become like the Society for Creative Anachronism: All these futuristic humans knew was that once upon a time and very long ago, their genetic ancestors had dressed up in these flesh suits with those funny looking clefts and knobs between the legs.

I had been resurrected for reasons unbeknownst to me.

I wasn’t me. I was an electronic clip: mentation without sensation.

“Why, you were the leading Cassandra of the 21st century,” somebody said to me.

Cassandra! Huh! Sounds about right. My favorite archetype!

This entry was originally posted at http://mallorys-camera.dreamwidth.org/696953.html. You may leave comments on either Dreamwidth or LiveJournal if you like.


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Feb. 22nd, 2018 06:42 pm (UTC)
Couldn't agree more with your comments on higher education.
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )