Nature isn’t an idealized balance of function. It would be nice if the strongest, smartest and fastest thrived, but the world refuses to grant wishes. Too often it’s the weakest and stupidest that seem to make up the majority of the population. Rather than relying on talent or ability, swarms of parasitic lifeforms band together in an effort to prolong their codependent existence. Knowing their own merit only comprises a fraction of a valid humanoid, they morph together into a congealed abomination with an incoherent hive-mind. A vague, bacterial pulse beats through the group, instructing each cog to throw its inferior weight against anything threatening the collective.
People are parasites.
History is littered with examples of anemic-minded finger pointers who were absorbed into an assembly’s black hole. Once they’re initiated into the bowels a faction, a complete detox of individual ideas and perceptions takes place. All apprentice pieces to the structure are filled with the group’s objective after they’ve been stripped of their former identity. This process requires little time. Anyone seeking a group has little to no personality of their own to begin with. After they’re fully initialized, the newcomer immediately blends in with even the most seasoned affiliates. Soon they all look and act the same, projecting the image of a larger living being, overshadowing the reality of scattered weaklings standing on each other’s shoulders.
Each peg is responsible for two duties - reaffirm the existence of other units and cry out against anything compromising the performance of their machine. A jamboree robot can’t function properly if one of its components is malfunctioning. Similarly, the hive monster can’t operate when one of its appendages is rotting. This is why the cogs will continually reinforce one another, no matter how ridiculous or stupid they appear to be. Keeping each cell healthy enough to expel the host body’s propaganda is the diseased conglomerate’s internal function. The external function involves collectively destroying outsiders who pose a threat. Whether this threat is real or imagined, whether it’s defined by an act of aggression or by being different is of no consequence. The moment one of the drones identifies menacing outsiders a message is relayed to other group members. Once that message is received the pieces band together and mindlessly try to exterminate the external foe without question.
Assaulting the outsider can take place in both the physical and non-physical realms. In the physical or “real life” arena the act usually involves ganging up on an individual and accosting them. This practice was more common decades ago, but in our contemporary world an increasing amount of outsider assaults take place in the non-physical sphere. One advantage to this is that more group members can be obtained from a digitalized planetary pipeline than from a centralized location. Another (much less admirable) advantage is the lack of physical repercussions that comes with a digital lynch mob.
This phenomenon is known as “online justice.”
People who would normally condemn historical examples of large groups persecuting individuals don’t see themselves as contradictory when cheering for internet crusades where many people harass and bombard individuals. Their idea of “justice” is systematic verbal assault on anyone who doesn’t think like them. Whether they’re signing online petitions or sending anonymous, poorly spelled messages the goal is clear - destroy that which is not like them. Unlike the honesty of one person annihilating another for survival or personal gain, the group eviscerates individuals for the collective wellbeing of its members while simultaneously labeling the act as “justice.” Aside from the fact that justice is an abstract idea used by most people to express a merging of revenge and ethics, these people see nothing unethical about many swarming to attack one. Incidentally, ethics are a lie. If you’re going to pretend you have ethics, at least be consistent. I don’t think being a hypocrite unethical, it’s just unattractive.
The weakness within conglomerates is the members themselves. While the image of a large group may look intimidating, it’s important to note that each of its appendages is fickle-minded and lacks the persistence to see anything through. Destroying one of these congealed clumps of excrement may appear to be a big job, but in actuality it’s only a series of small tasks. In fact, given the waning will most of the group’s members possess, merely decimating a few of the human allotments will send the rest of the group running. Or they’ll just cry “Bully!” While it’s important to eradicate these blobs, it’s just as important to distance ourselves from them. Don’t claim “justice” or “bully” while dismantling them. The simple truth is that watching them get hysterical and scatter like the cockroaches they are is fun and fun is its own justification.
Then again, given the clumsy back and forth mental dribbling that passes as a thought process for these vermin, they’ll most likely devour themselves the second an external enemy is gone from sight. No matter how much verbal stock they put in “we” there will always be more vested interest in “I.” The reason these so-called people join a group in the first place is out of self-preservation. It’s only a matter of time until the safety they feel in numbers leads to complacency. Popularity and self-validation is the only thing they care about, so it’s not that far of a stretch to envision them tearing each other apart for the title of queen bee.
I don’t care how these dullard syndicates are destroyed so long as their ribboned existence is dumped into an active volcano. I’ll whistle while I work as I shovel what’s left of them into a fire mountain. As they clumsily tumble into Pele’s sizzling earth wart, I’ll wave goodbye and smile at the prospect of a life without them. Everyone will benefit, including them. All the anxiety of a life outside of lava will literally melt away. They can be forever bonded to each other without the taxing mental effort of convincing themselves that they and their comrades are leading a worthwhile existence. With the exception of magic underwear, nothing good has ever come from a rube trying to think.
No comments:
Post a Comment