Why Should I Write About Nothing Changed?

I haven’t written here for a few days now, or anywhere else for that matter. As far as I am concerned, nothing worthy of writing about has occurred. There have been no developments on any subject that matters, at all.

Oh, a few edges are becoming frayed. The world moves closer to calamity of one sort or another. People keep having babies. People keep dying. And not much change in the ratio of either of those statistical markers, in spite of the vaguely meandering ending of a supposed pandemic or the continuation of the requisite number of wars and other genocidal activities. Food keeps being grown and beaten to death in varying levels of ‘processing’ until much of it resembles nothing like what food used to be, and so has to be further processed to make it sellable. The rich keep getting richer, and there are slightly more of them. While the poor keep growing in vast numbers – and getting poorer. Folk in general simply keep ‘growing’ dummer as a result of living in a world that needs them to do that. It makes them easier to control – and sell stuff to. The same stuff for all, of course, because it is cheaper to make stuff (‘food’ is stuff, naturally – especially the stuff that says ‘natural’ on the packaging) if you know the stuff you make already has a huge market – which generally does not need to cater for large numbers of different needs and tastes. Other, smaller operations which do not need to make large amounts of money can handle those diversities. And if they ever become successful, they can be bought out and eventually steered to carry the same stuff and become outlets of the bigger operations, or closed down.

…and so on, and so on. And I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of everything that hasn’t changed. It would be easier to write about everything that has changed, except I can’t put my finger on anything in that category.

My brain hurts from trying to think of something. But the changes, if I can find them at all, are so minuscule as to be worthless as ‘news’. I scan and scan the news – not all of it of course (I am not a masochist) – but nothing stands out, even among my favourite go to sources. So, why bother.

On top of that, I am surrounded by flood waters just now (courtesy La Niña), and I couldn’t escape by road even if I wanted to, while others have had to leave their homes or see waters flowing through them. Not that that is worth talking about either, other than writing just this line – since I could be in the same boat (Oops! that was an unfortunate unintended pun) as them tomorrow. I don’t think so though, otherwise I would have already gone.

Something needs to shake this world, otherwise we will all become stupefied zombies (like Joe Biden), and I for one do not want to spend my days sniffing the hair of young girls whom I have somehow wormed my way into standing very close behind and thinking no-one has noticed. But that is the level of activity we are headed towards if we keep on allowing the ‘Joes’ of this world to lead us that way.

Or maybe nothing needs to happen to change anything. And we all do end up as puddles of fluids from deflated flesh-bags, in a bed, with tubes protruding from every orifice and some additional ones besides, to keep us as consumer units even at such a low level of existence in order to satisfy some profit motive somewhere. And to keep the world, this particular world, and not far in time from now, still turning and revolving as some ghastly profit machine – for the benefit of robots – the new masters.

So, until something changes sufficiently to make a difference to some aspect of life on this planet that is noticeable and meaningful, and worthy of relating to others, I may (that’s a maybe, not a threat) not write here again.

On the other hand. I may feel entirely differently tomorrow. Especially if the waters stay away from my door.


One thought on “Why Should I Write About Nothing Changed?

Add yours

  1. Hi Bernie…I don’t seem to have your email anymore, but just wondering if you’re OK and not flooded out.

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