Panem et Circenses

Hello there my young child. Put that book down and listen to me. My, what a beautiful piece of carbon-based wastage you’re growing up to be! It’s 8:42 am. We’re losing contact. Allow me to nurture you. See how I provide you with the illusion of choice with your 500 channels? Bow down to me. I’m responsible for making Vladimir cry. He envies my ability to vegetate you. It’s 8:46 am. Flight 11 impacts the North Tower. Sit right there. Continue to absorb as I sensationalize. It’s 8:52 am. The F-15s are scrambling. These problems don’t affect you. We’ll get around to fixing them. Stay complacent in your contentment with the war—you’re not the one fighting it. It’s 9:00 am. Flight 77 hits the pentagon. Sit still. Allow me to offer you more short term government palliatives. I know you’ll unwittingly comply. You and I have formed a lovely relationship. You’re bored, I entertain you. You’re disgruntled and I pacify you. I am your baseline necessity. You need me. It’s 9:02 am. Flight 175 impacts the South Tower. Some say I’m sick. They say I should be reformed in order to counteract the natural tendency to seek power. I say fuck ‘em. If you wanna watch The Bachelor getting screwed over by the scantily clad cheap trick in the red, you go for it. It’s 9:21 am. The Port Authority orders all bridges and tunnels in New York to close. You know something? You’re much, much cuter as an inactive, sleeping pawn. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re one big myoma that thinks your planet supports you and you alone, and let’s keep it that way. It’s 10:03am. Flight 93 crashes. Except there are no plane parts. And the hole in the ground is only 14 feet wide. But you weren’t supposed to know that. Young child, don’t let anyone tell you I’m trying to infect you. You’re a pathetic example of earth’s organic heritage, but I adore you! I see you spend with careless abandon, but I love you anyway. Remember back in March, 2003? The Gallop poll asserted that 51 percent of your fellow Americans thought Saddam Hussein was personally responsible for 9/11. That’s all my doing. No need to thank me. So remember, baby doll, listen and listen good—the only way to ensure progress for a more perfect union is to remember who your goddamn boss is.