Rant 50: The Land of Bureaucracy

[Irreverend Hugh, KSC]

Rant 50
The Land of Bureaucracy

,ÄúThe houses are all the same. How would anyone find their way home in the evening?,Ķ
Oh,ĶI bet they,Äôre all numbered.,Äù

,ÄúWe disinherit ourselves as children of the universe. Almost without knowing it, we slip inside ready made roles and routines which then set the frames of our possibilities and permissions,Ķ,Äù
-John O Donohue (from Eternal Echoes, pg. 100)

,ÄúFrei sein ist nichts, frei werden ist alles,Ķ,Äù

Oh, great embodiments of national identity and social security numbers, born on such and such a date and alive for such and such many hours, days, weeks, months, and years,Ķbasking in the comforts of an assumed and inculcated certainty,Ķdo you think yourself free?

Living from the tickets and chits your masters allow you, in exchange for your labor fattening their bank accounts, to barter for food and other products at pre-approved barter rates, of course (otherwise known as currency,Ñ¢),Ķyou think yourself self-sufficient and unchained to the terminal BUREAUCRACY that categorizes every aspect of the ,Äòfree life,Äô you claim to have the choice to live and sells those aspects back to you for a profit, of course. The BUREAUCRACY feeds itself on your perpetual numbness and ignorance of just what the fuck is really happening in your life. It gets you to bake the damn cookies and lets you keep a few crumbs as a reward. You know this but you refuse to see it. You can protest and plead and revolt and cry, but the chains of abstract numbers and paper trails binds you more tightly than any steel chain ever could. Think yourself free? Really? Hurry up and decide quickly. I hear that freedom of choice is now on sale at your local supermarket. Run out there quickly and buy it up before it,Äôs gone.

But remember to take your identification and the proper forms with you so you can properly prove to the prim clerks at the store that you are officially permitted to buy the corporate-govermedia-approved brand of Freedom of Choice,Ѣ. Because you live in the Land of Bureaucracy, a sorry gray land of cubicles, files, labels, numbers, and assumptions masquerading themselves as Reality,Ѣ, a product you readily buy all the time. Make sure you always have the proper forms and follow the correct procedures so that you can be better filed and categorized than those damned things that keep sprouting like weeds, mocking your purchase of the proper Freedom of Choice,Ѣ at every turn you take. They mock you because would rather have a shoddy product that masquerades itself as freedom all the while believing yourself free since you think you can choose which pre-fabricated version of Freedom of Choice,Ѣ you will buy. You live in the Land of Bureaucracy believing that it makes you safe from the forces of the Land of Fuck All and DOOM. But they are one and the same. Eris has been knocking softly at your pineal gland for some time now to get you to wake up from this collective nightmare of constriction, and realize the inherent game that it is. She does it to get you to be able to have some fun playing the game by Her rules,Ķwhich are none at all. She sees into your inner desire to toy with, tickle, and burn up the BUREAUCRACY and its minions. She wishes for you to express that desire. You know you want to.

The holes in your socks are protesting against the sinking of your life into the terminal bureaucracy. The squirrels outside are raving mad and shouting at you to wake up before you walk right into Eris, who will be having a bad day at that exact moment. And you,Äôre so smug in your own denial that She,Äôll have to smack you with a sledgehammer to snap you out of it. For the longest time real freedom has had a soft and almost hard to hear voice gently nudging you off of the UDDERS of BUREAUCRACY, the foul machinery and system of DUMB that gets you to become comfortable and compliant in your impending DOOM. Now freedom is shouting loudly into both your ears, and just like the skirl of Highland Bagpipes, no matter how far you run from it, it will still seem as loud as if it were coming from inside your head. Why now? Because Eris is pissed off that you wouldn,Äôt listen to Her back when She was asking you nicely. What? You have a problem with Eris bothering you so much? What are you going to do about it?

So you can probably guess the rest of this rant. You know, it,Äôs about the end of the BUREAUCRACY due to the paper shortage, and do you know why that paper shortage happens? I,Äôll tell you why. Eris is burning up all the damned papers. (Well, whatever She doesn,Äôt burn up is going to get smoked in my pipe.) She,Äôs shredding the files. Confusing the categories. Changing the colors. Switching the languages. All the vending machines and traffic lights are going out of order. All of the televisions are starting to malfunction. All of the pretty ideas that entertain those addicted to DUMB and living in the land of BUREAUCRACY are disappearing faster than roaches scattering under sunlight. All of the above things and more are happening in the drift back towards chaos that is our blessed and damned aftermath. And since we,Äôre drifting, we may as well have a little fun with the office slaves and the yahoos who clearly show a need for the gift of Golden Apples.

My fellow Discordians and other weird subversive types, you know the score. Laugh amongst those who are gray, or at least pull off a half-hidden smirk (in case you,Äôre outnumbered). Use their categories and assumptions to unmask the masquerade (then again, that ain,Äôt new to you), unless the masks are silly aids to pineal explosions and contribute to the aftermath. Rest assured, or stand insecurely (if that,Äôs your style (parenthetically)), in the knowledge that the Purple Monkey Mafia/Cabal is about to indulge itself on the great feast of steaks (or tofu, for the veggie-types) in the coming barbecue that will be the aftermath of Operation Mindfuck,Äôs contribution to the paper shortage that will bring the BUREAUCRACY down. We declare the Land of Bureaucracy to be henceforth a Discordian fun-zone. You can join in, or not, or maybe, as the case may be. Who knows? Eris may have other ,Äòplans,Äô for you.

[No money necessary for the freedom Eris offers, however donations gladly accepted.]

(Boomtime, the 3rd Day in the Season of Bureaucracy, 3170)

[namu]

Freedom is not choice, and choice is not freedom. Freedom/slavery is 90¬? from choice/obligation.

Freedom exists without choice : Do What You Will. Choice can kill freedom : if you have to choose, you're not free.

The true face of freedom is independance. The true face of choice is a rusty old fork with a bent tooth.

The Universe encompasses more than the fork will tell you. You're walking on the surface of that fork, not realising the rest of the world above and below it. They say you can't walk down the bent tooth or you'll fall off. Enjoy the fall.

And remember: the enemy gate is down.

[Slarti]

wow  

[fluffy]