Idioformat is the new word I just invented to express my indignation. I have a big problem with the machine. A big f*cking problem.

Here is a quick visual… What is life about?

Goal: Be dignified, have respect, eat well, have relative control over your life, have your talents appreciated by your peers. Be liked for what you like about yourself the most. These are all the things that everyone needs to be happy.

Condition: A total clusterf*ck where there is no correlation whatsoever between virtue and reward (assholes and charlatans are in high chairs, truth tellers are laughed at, apparatchiks are getting book deals and keynote speeches, and teachers and people who actually make things with their hands are working three jobs just to pay their bills). It’s the presentation that makes you important, not the good deeds. People who have learned the hypnotizing rhythms of corporate speak, exchange code words with each other, and it is the use of that entirely artificial code language that opens the gates to mainstream, i.e. corporate, recognition. Upward mobility depends on the the compliance with ide… idioformat.

The ones who speak the simple-sounding, non-pretentious language of reality, are brushed off because the judgement system is upside down, and aliveness is a sin. It is the same old war cry of the Western civilization that it uttered as it strangled love and natural life all over the globe. Savages who use direct language cannot be trusted–unless they agree to package direct language in a commercial wrapper that half-castrates every word prior to the financial transaction.

Corporations own everything. Everything in the world, including your value to society, is defined by their bottom line.

Out of purity of our hearts, we kinda assume that the machine operates on logic, common sense, and generally good motives – but when you take on look on how politics works, or how marketing works, it’s all about nepotism, and money, and transactional value, and trying to get the biggest bang for your buck, which usually means sacrificing this replaceable peasant or another.

[Each peasant cries alone, as somebody switches the TV to another channel.]

Result: Blessed are the ones who are focused on the microcosm because in the microcosm, it’s all about relationships, and doing something with your hands, and what you had for lunch. That’s generally bearable, and that often makes sense.

Condolences to the ones who wake up in the morning and have to think about the big picture and where we are heading. That is painful. The only anesthetic I have found personally is a sense of humor. The machine is a total mess, and while I am inside it, I can try to have fun with the people who love me.

It is a strange ride.

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