Cliches of the Walking Dead

clicheThe daily wonderings that are inscribed upon my being usually begin with meaning. Somewhere all tied up in meaning is communication and how communication, what we say to others, how we treat them, as well as what and how we communicate with ourselves will give us a pretty good glimpse at what we believe this life to be all about.

Breaking down a typical day in easy fashion, writing the events down upon a journal are the most efficient way to catalogue what it really is that you find important. Are there contemplations you neglect because you find it more entertaining to watch the newest season of some television show? What about that thank you letter you meant to write three weeks ago, but you allowed your mind to get bogged down by work? As you hone how you spend your mental time, you can learn to see the destructive power of those little thoughtless phrases one uses when throwing their mind on autopilot, or even confronting a situation that causes him or her too much brain-pulsing thought!!

My step-father fancies himself a smaller-government republican, whatever that has ever meant. He reads all the best-selling novels on Lincoln, George W, Reagan, and of course the Coolest Generation. But none of those books teaches him how to think of anything, and being an engineer, he thinks everything can be designed to function properly, not that it has individual parts that want to do their own individual things. Usually when the conversation steers towards “Understanding banking and fiat money,” “that the US Corporation kills more people than a Boston marathon bomb,” or that “taxes are complete theft and that instead of whining about it he should try and not pay them one time,” he always responds with that same dead look in his eyes…”Well son, I guess we better Agree to Disagree.”

The fraud that is inherent in that statement can only be equaled by the lies perpetuated by any economist who says “We must spend ourselves to prosperity”…It not only happens when we talk, but also when I have tried to give him the time to think, by sending an email, backed up with independent facts, facts backed up from the mouths of the perpetrators, and he always comes back with some dissenting voice from the media whores saying “conspiracy theory, blah, blah, blah.” The knives that pierce from those whose minds can not stray from the roads carved within their minds…they cannot even see the many paths of fruitful revelations down below, that they could spend days and weeks in ponderments…all because they love the way the wheels roll upon freshly paved asphalt.

Destruction wreaks an even greater torment with these black-hole meanderings of words that mean nothing, yet prove everything, as the next favorite cliché my mother and father are always proud to hurl in my direction is the non-sensical, “If you hate this country so much rathbone steel, why don’t you just move out (get out)?” As though this country, this piece of land is somehow owned by them that they could even bring the idea up? As the tone echoes around the room I hear things in their voices that says, “I should be more respectful of the fact that THEY put me here, fed me, and gave me a good upbringing, and that nowhere on this earth is PERFECT, so maybe I should learn a little more forgiveness and patience, and believe that all this is in the plans of God, and that somehow he will make it all right in the end….if only i have an open heart and believe….” Its as though everything about this country club amerika is fashioned in the exact sense that they want it, with all its laws (which they have no idea how many of them there are, they just know that they will keep following them, because you can’t fight the law, because the law always wins…And, We don’t make the rules, but we have to follow them, because if you can’t beat em, join em!!!),  all its sameness, all its oppression, all its moral and physical obesity and decay, all its unoriginality, all its enforcement, all its averting eyes, its politcal correctedness, its routine worship of the dollar and jobs, its maxheadrom hypnotic television eyez, its retirement from nothing to nothing, its clichés…

Ahhhhhhhhhhh. the communication heartache, the mind numbing atrocities these clichés perpetuate, and they spread amongst all people, from authoritarian parents on down, from clichés such as, My Way or the highway, to clichéd actions such as spankings…

No one ever takes the time to think. To think about thinking. To think about our relationships. To think about the fact that just like the bars in the physical world, our mind can build itself a prison of concrete-covered suburbia, where life is nothing but plasticadia, built upon the surface of things, where there is no responsibility for thinking, and relationships are built upon just words, not what lies within those words and the definitions that make them come alive (and the things they represent), and where meaning is found in what they are told things mean, instead of taking the time to contemplate their own personal meaning themselves.

But its always been that way here in the confines of mindless amerika, and it will always be that way, forever, Business as Usual

tell me how clichés have impacted your lives?

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