Friday, December 28, 2007
One Flu Over the Pandemic
I have had a cold for the last week.

My cat has one, too.

While the cat and I were lying around, wilting, it dawned on me: I haven't heard much about the Avian bird flu. When were all we supposed to die from it--last year or last month? No, wait. Last month was MRSA.

This month, there are no health threats. It's Christmas, after all.

Don't get sentimental--we're not being threatened by health worries because we are needed in malls. Sales were only average this year during the holiday season, so I suspect we will be bombarded with car deals and buy-one-get-one free packages for another month. Then, we'll get walloped with Wallaby Virus or SMERGA or some such horrible, exploding hot zone disease that will make our hair incinerate and our teeth rot out through our feet. Please wear your face masks at all times. Do not eat duck pate. And for goodness' sake, watch Oprah for upcoming news bulletins.

I just wiped my nose with a tissue and threw it at the Visa know the one(s). All the people are in the store, dancing to an Andrew Lloyd Weber tune, swiping their magical debit cards. Then, there's that asshole that shows up at the counter. S/he's using cash, and just managed to corrupt the whole flow of the fresh water supply on Earth. Coffee spills, children start screaming, and gunfire erupts in Palestine. Apparently, cash is the real nemesis...along with MRS-A. Please. Stick to magical debit thingies connected to great big computers tracking your purchasing habits, your pharmaceutical buys, your on-line gambling problem.

My car's in the shop, so I can't get to the pharmacy to pick up my over-prescribed antibiotic. I have asked my mechanic to take out the black box put into my vehicle. The car manufacturer assured me the box was there to collect data on braking and transmission habits of the vehicle, but based on the insurance company's response to my recent speeding ticket, I tend to think there might be another reason for such a tracking device in my car.

So, here I am, without a car and without cash. I could always use my cell phone to call my college friend who lives in Lebanon. We could chat about the war in Iraq, the assassination of Bhutto, and the consequences of a consumer-driven lust for compartmentalization, cell structure, and conditioned education. But there is a rather large chance that after hanging up the phone, several intimidating men in black jump suits will burst through my front door without the merest attempt at knocking or furnishing a warrant.

I'll skip the phone. Maybe I'll Google some current news topics, like RFID technology and microchipping in children. Maybe, I'll glance at some updated conspiracy theorist's web page.


An episode of 'Survivor' is scheduled on my Tivo. And I have to relax in order to heal this cold. I have no sick time left and if I don't get better, I won't get paid for another two weeks. My benefits could renege based on my reluctance to fill a prescription that makes me 'healthy blue' for Blue Cross/Blue Shield. Better to keep my job, keep my head down, keep working until I die, making absolutely sure I do nothing to free myself from this virtual prison in which I have imprisoned myself with help from Them.

Time to turn off the television. Time to hang up the phone. Time to cut the cord. Time to stop buying and start thinking.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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