A Nation of Zombies
Iarrive home from work, drained and empty. Too tired for human interaction, I press the buttons on the remote and stare blankly into the big TV box. It’s not long before the commercials and endless parade of product placements overwhelm my defenses and penetrate my mind. Every detail of every message is meticulously calculated, designed to be repetitive and hypnotic, played over and over until the mindfuck finally kicks. In. My head is now filled with fatuous desire. Fast forward. Like a junkie on a comedown, I stumble into the sterile mall corridors as if in some kind of trance. The motley group of shoppers surrounding me, all the same – glazed eyes, blank stares, faces twisted into ugly masks of want. We are an army of zombies. Instead of brains and human flesh, we devour strategically placed merchandise and affordably priced products manufactured in China. I quickly drain my plastic cards and my soul, returning home with my bounty of shopping bags. All filled with mass produced garbage, quickly tossed onto a pile of all the other trash I’ve accumulated. Tomorrow I will wake up, have my coffee and leave the comfort and security of my home for work. I will spend another long and tedious day in the indentured monotony that masquerades as a job. When it’s over, I will again return home and rest in front of the big TV box and wait for the radiating commercials, like little particles penetrating what is left of my mind. And every night I tell myself, “maybe one of these days, I’ll pull the plug.”
–Malcolm Klimowicz
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