the age of incorporation

Nay says the normal horse, nay.

The garble over what’s wrong with the kids/town/country/world today is a cliche-ridden babylon.  Various interests develop self-serving position statements on the matter, then propound those positions profusely.  Turn to your favorite 24-hour news station and observe this phenomena on hyper-drive, and the lunatics on either side.  I have one answer to all the what’s-wrong-with questions: large corporations.

The age of incorporation, in my cluttered mind, began with mass production of goods and the industrial revolution.  Making shit and selling it to people became big business.  The many workers a means to the factory owner’s wealthy end.  Same story today except those companies churn out smaller devices that break down sooner.   And the shareholders have moved the dilapidated factories to out-of-sight countries.

With corporations came desk jobs, and therein came the normal horse.

graham roumieu

graham roumieu

In moments of quiet reflection, the normal horse is sad.  Sad because he’s not able to be what he was designed to be.  He is disconnected from his innate desires and abilities.  He is fooled into thinking he is an ass for not doing things a certain way; the dictates of the here and now; the tie, the car, the sports and beer.

It’s funny because the normal horse didn’t always exist, yet we assume, in our daily aquiesences, that he always will.  And because of this assumption, that he will continue, we conclude that the conditions underlying his existence must be currently and prospectively justified.  The logic is myopically flawed.

To be sure- wild horses don’t just choose the life of the normal horse.  A wild horse eventually needs food, rent money, and medical insurance, which may pre-require a degree.   Plus, sometimes the wild horse just can’t help but indulge on creature comforts because he is, after all, a creature, and who doesn’t like being comfortable.  So he knots the tie tighter and wears it a while longer, tightness and duration dependent on the comforts involved (the difference between a Kia and BMW roughly equals 314 days at just barely breathing).

But the true tragedy of the normal horse’s plight is that the beneficiaries of his time-money sacrifice/exchange are fucking fictional entities.  And, when a few hands feed, clothe and accessorize the many, only a few hands make all the money.  Help free the normal horse tomorrow, buy local today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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