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Which craft?

television breeders equals television leaders… the dreaming thing is upon me unrelenting among the sleeping masses as before… all i have learned Here is that when i am a bad dog, i get yelled at and corrected, but absolutely nothing when i do well and act professional… the distance… all our lives are spent satisfying routines that we have created to guide and protect us… while still others try to solely to collapse those plans into dust… so where is the win-win scenario, huh?… sabotaging communications because a negative intent feeds the loop leading into a dysfunctional path to the truth… a hard box of take away that no one else wants to touch nor can anyone else handle, with that particular caution attached that makes it as hot as Pandora’s box, and stolen right out from the absurd underneath us all… when you begin to take for granted how televised content has been there programming and re-programming our lives to the beat of some sitcom sequence that we fall prey to an approved dramatic response of discovery, the switch was installed long before we got Here that sends the signals outward into the ether, and flipped to the ‘on’ position thus beginning to dissolve the human lessons learned previously like blank slate rewiring as the new culture drifted through the generations up to and as precursor for the digital culture we begin to see now… in many ancient times passed even as we recall the surface glamor romantic of the dark ages in history, there were roles that functioned on the human wavelength to utilize the physical prowess and hard-working capability of these creatures, but now there is the quality of an obsolete essence clothed in shrouds and death images to make it appear daunting to the naked witness… the digital plagues have come and gone as more of us engineer ways to function in that new reality in further and deeper ways than our imagination would normally allow, but that is how infused with progress we really are Here as the material moves to fulfill our requested actions albeit through a vessel that resembles vaguely human features as we still move away from the dark submission under rulership, we apply ourselves to wonder which craft is right for the individual… to assume a relationship connecting us to the rest of the world for even the briefest flicker of recognition somewhere, our old roles as craftsmen and artisans are long modified into other aspects of the same cycles, and where once there were immense buildings filled with one gigantic computer there are now millions of small adaptations to a life of compressed compatibility between objects and subjects… this has eliminated many human labor tasks that can now be successfully accomplished in a few hours by complex machines designed specifically for hard labor, but the jobs that remain still with humans at the task require a fairly sharp head on the shoulders, the roles that mechanical innovation has yet to fill with cheap parts… the mission of the upper-classed elite mob is the assimilation of pragmatic approaches to a problem, and the elimination of expense qualities of labor that only humans feel necessary to quote as they feel their time is so very precious indeed, this is where we all align as human beings… we all believe we are worth something more that what at first there appears to be… the supervisors and bosses of the world have united and taken over before the breaking up of a monopoly-like strain of infected consciousness began tearing down the socially-minded community hive when the industrial bomb dropped into the eyes of the liars in waiting for the others to drop like flies who couldn’t adapt to the changes, this is the niche fulfilled by the mind control of the televised hymns to a prototype of human engineered faith and science, and the mystical nazi myth of a people creating the enemy to create a savior to aid their selective massacre of everyone… the human plague tries to mightily feast upon the dregs of society with little to no achievement of this goal, the recycling stalls in retaliation of the “tunnels” are already too filled with bile and shit clogging the network of sickened mess that constitute veins and brains and intestines within the human beast, but we force the pulse forward through the thick-skinned pressures from outside as the heart begin to chase it down the full length of our soul in motion… soon we will need to decide on new methods to this mad nuisance…

Thanks, khet.