Itβs easy to condemn the world of QR code menus, HR talk, and big-box stores as bleak. Itβs a reflex to be revolted by the sterile dust that now seemingly coats every corner of the Western World. Blue pill or Red Pill, I guess. When the only alternative seems to be outright populism. There seems to be a lethargic and sneering shadow that nips the heels of every passer-by. Isnβt easy to be ironic. Isnβt it easy to hold an air of apathetic sardonicism. Isnβt it easy to curse the cage we are locked in, only to tighten the bars in fear of what lies beyond. If Emily Dickson claims that βhopeβ is the thing with feathers, I wonder what she will make of the bird who clipped its own wings. Be brave, I think. Take courage to revolt against the programmed norm to hate and to despise. See beauty in the perfect cubes of Chocolate Milk cartons, find humour in the abrupt slopes of beer bellies. You havenβt even lost your skin elasticity yet, maybe you should just go fly a kite.
