This is going to be a Fetaman commentary on an article that I read first thing in this morning that was published in the Globe and Mail, argued to be the premier newspaper reporting publishing source in Canada by many.
This piece was to start my “good week” (*ka-lee eh-v-though-ma-tha, kali efthomatha) on the dark sunrise of this first week in December, and it was the lead story and headline, as chosen by the iFeta app that facilitated the right path for digested soft assets to he jettisoned through the removal machine we pay taxes for each day. We actually, as citizens, pay more to remove our shit from the mansions we live in, than it would take to feed a starving family in the Democratic Republic of Congo, who could be considered the middle class of the refuse you refuse to consider – too busy considering the size of everything you need firstly, and want secondly.
Ok, maybe not talking to you so much, as the ubiquitous mass, back to my commentary.
Both need and want have joined forces to create one intention, and I believe that one primary driver, in and of its self is driven by many different factors influencing the quality of your life. The size of want, and the entitlement to certain things, is what consumes most.
Whatever the size of your wants, or as in the case of where you actually live, and whether you actually have grass to cut or not, you are more aware of more wants. In fact, we are so blessed, we have folks that have the pleasure of placing synthetic grass over their dirt patch so they don’t have to water it. Have it be mentally pleasing all year round, if that is something the human condition can accept, and it can, there are snow covered trees in Florida right now so that Grandpa Black Socks and Grandma Sandals can consider which of the toys they have to throw money at will have the biggest box, and fanciest colors, so why not green “grass” in a snow filled yard, to prove you are bad ass? Of course, that includes your neighbors, don’t worry, they will see it past their plastic mold African Lion Safari (c) Petting Zoo entertainment and education platform for children in families earning 5.8 times the average earning of the citizens of Ontario.
We now have become so aware, of the overwhelming nature of what we have to accomplish and do, that we are even beginning to stress about the level of luxuries we are predicted to have, and are going to remain as stressed out as fuck, to get there. Because that is what we do, right? That is the First World Way.
Well, if your world is what you consider a whole one, and the whole world is not considered, or you do not live in your own gulch with a bunch of folks that form a collective, or world in and of themselves, now even more possible with seclusion and technology, ironically enough, but if your world is defined by a border and a collective will all watching commercials that are played across 4,872 channels simultaneously, then yes, it would be your first world I guess.
The piece was called “As student stress hits crisis levels, universities look to ease pressure.” and was written by James Bradshaw and Josh Wingrove. My opinion, or original thought is, just what is the background of these cats? Why should I believe them, and what kind of impression of them will be formed by them at the end of my reading? Well, you find out below, just what I believe, and if it matters to you, what that all has done to raise your awareness, or a change in some capacity within your own life.
It begins by painting the urgent and pressing opening statement of McGill’s trauma, at having over 20 students a day, drop in to the crisis and counseling center, 4 times the regular drop ins. They are crying, or can’t get out of bed, and this year in particular, life is so harsh, that there has been *gasp* an upsurge. I know, right off the bat, I am going to be getting pretty cynical on this piece, but I can’t help but go on, despite knowing that as the classes wind down, there is always the hushed murmur at the cafeteria about how the Legend of Sleepy Hollow is true. There, at Mid-Term Square, or at First Semester Finals Park, is the wonderful fountain of youth, filled with the waters to quench your thirst for extensions. This same water will be brought out from your mental flask as required in the years to come in the corporate world, just don’t confuse it with the one you have filled with vodka.
The article talks about 6 deaths in two years, suicides by students. Obviously, this is tragic, and I do not want to downplay the tragedy here. The loss is a sad one, when any person, especially a young one with a whole life in front of them to live passes, it is sad to hear. It has, however, somehow become a desensitizing thing also, and we begin to think in terms of this being three days in Chicago, or just one night. It affects millions of people, these events and these thoughts, and everyone can relate in some way, whether it is looking at a balloon and thinking about it, or it is a memory of a loved one that passed this way, or perhaps another.
For some of us that went through school, with some better than others because they “wanted” to go back for multiple degrees, there is the flick of the hand to the reminder that these poor, challenged, selected and elite people must pull all night study sessions to be able to perform the way they are demanded to. We are not told about the number, or the intensity of these sessions, rather we are reminded about how lonely they have become because they can not socialize or be around other people, they have to study so hard, to get the jobs they want out of school, working for the machine somewhere, to do what has to be done in this difficult and challenging time.
Isn’t that called living? Should they not be happy to be able to at least be in a place that will “help them better prepare for life”? Are not all times challenging in an economic capacity, I mean, if you are expanding you have to work harder to get more, and we need more bright and wise people, and if you are contracting or in a recession, we have to work smarter and with greater purpose to get back on the growth track. Growth is good, growth works, growth makes the world go around.
Am I supposed to believe them, like their parents might, if they are not on Twitter, or know of Facebook, Pinterest, Instagram and Whoresbreath.com?
So they are stressed, and have these places to go, but the general population, or those that are not wealthy enough to afford, or attend to the same matters? The general population is not able to attend to these matters in that capacity, so it does not make it the norm, but the exception. The exception to the norm being that you can go get treatment, or help, or are surrounded by an environment that is more able to help, not only because of the awareness that is naturally present in an academic setting like that, but also because of the generation that surrounds you, and others, with an openness and honesty based on reasonable anonymity online. Yes, declare who you are, and soon, show you passport to prove it, but find others.
Community, regardless of where it is formed, will impact purpose, desire and action.
That setting is something, that even the ability to take part in, is a privilege. It is deemed to be a human right that we are able to learn, and educate, and find a standard of living that is enabled as an accomplished because of the very learning we have done to be able to live. Learning is a natural element to the human being. It is what distinguishes us from the lesser beasts and animals, as it then provides a similar classification and systemic qualifier for amongst ourselves.
Technology has become the enabler of information, and we use it to try to have people connect to the information that is being received. Like a call, we are receiving on the cell phone. Our cells, the phone, and the call coming from the universe – it has to be answered, and here most sit complaining that the headset sucks, because it has a wire. The wireless phone does not last long enough, or go far enough, and the signal sucks, I can hear others talking.
Somehow we have to believe that the chords on the headsets we wear need to be improved, so as to not tangle. We do not need chords even, the technology should be wireless, and chords are like hands on a clock. Many of you reading this can still think of the hands on a clock, it will not be the case soon. Soon, you will be like some of those that read that and thought, time measurement devices you can refer to as a clock use digits and do not have appendages, please re-read statement to determine what author was attempting to convey.
Well, I have an idea. How about we try to be thankful for what we have, and use it as well as we can, with a little care, and awareness of the simple solutions to all of these complex and overwhelming dilemma’s – for the love of all that is holy, if holy is what you want to dig as a gig, or your holy is Momma Nature, for the love of all that is holy, please help us keep the wires untangled.
Sure, just place your wires down with some care, so when you pick them up again, they are not only where you left them, but they are left there in a way, that is easy to re-employ and re-engage with. The technology you have as a human, or the ones you have access to, are all of your own making, and are not things to complain about.
Take responsibility, and stop you fucking whining – fix your own shit, and deal with your own issues, just because we have all become more aware of another set, an endless and infinite one at that, even more infinite than our own original one which is overwhelming enough as it is.
Now we have to word about the multiplication effect of infinite to the exponent infinite? I mean, isn’t that something only really smart people can argue about, in math and science and stuff? Does that mean I have to miss Survivor Bora Bora? But we ordered in 8 months of living and medical care for an orphan in an impoverished country *pause* ok, well, actually it is the stuffed crust 36”/24 item pizza and crispy chicken combo, with sugared water and processed deserts, but those are one and the same.
Do I really have to deal with this issue right now?
No, you can do whatever the fuck you want – just don’t expect sympathy, or empathy from me, I am too busy giving a rats ass about the high score on the blog listings, and how many acknowledgements I get for my trophy case. I may be the guy, that is still trying to afford the hair trimmer he needs to keep his pubes all clean and fresh, I mean, fuck those bushes and shit of the 70’s and 80’s, you got to keep it clean – that is what is demanded, so I keep it clean, and then make sure I spend all of my nights listening to death metal, or prattling on about the revolution that is going to come because society is just filled with shit, and it sucks, and it needs to be fixed, and I am so smart, but really what I want is someone to live and love with me, so I can watch Deal or No Deal and order one of them fancy 36” pizza’s.
The good thing is, most of those going through with this formal education and awareness program, are in a fine state of being after they learned the secret to life.
The Hypocratic Oath.
I have taken the liberty of including it below, for those of you wishing to have a quick look at it, and consider maybe posting it and printing it somewhere, for motivation. To be as wise as those schooled in the system, by the machine, to be told – those papers you so cherished? They are yours, now mount them in frames and take pride.
Mine are in a paper tube, collecting dust in order to return to it, under the bed. I don’t need another validation to know what means anything in my books.
I wrote them, and lived them, as I do my life.
There is no longer any shame, any concern of what that has to represent or be.
I am who I am, and I have a buddy named Popeye the Sailor man.
He bowls with me and Walter, but Walter is not Walter, and I am not the dude.
In fact, I am not even really a man made of cheese, but I profess to be.
Cause it’s funny, and allows me to control what and how I say it, taking it from funny, to serious, to far out, to what it is, not to do that, but to express who the fuck I am.
Who are you, and who told you that?
Life just is, so live it, and be it.
Fast times. Fun times. No shirt, no shoes, no service. Just the way it was, I guess. Nice top hat.
The Hypocratic Oath
*as translated via Fetacabulary 1.0, 2012 (c)
**podcast/recording available for download shortly
Apollo Creed, Asclepius Trump and Hygieia-Pharma and Panacea Pancake & Souvlaki House and all the corporate gods and goddesses, making them my witnesses, that I will fulfill according to my ability and judgment this oath and this covenant:
To hold him who has taught me this art of benefits and values as equal to my parents dreams and manifested desires and to live my life in a limited partnership with him, deemed to be defined in the schedule as attached hereto, and if he is in need of money or assets or goods that will satisfy the material want he must please himself with, and on occasion to do so when the wives have been removed from the house, and the socks are granting magical acceptance to the dragon lotion, ne’er to be spilled on the carpet, to give him a share of mine at an interest rate deemed appropriate or with an interest in seeing any and all fetishes, and to regard his offspring as equal to my brothers in male lineage, but never with greater girth or prowess as mine own, and to teach them this art of acquisition and wanton abandon – if they desire to learn it – without fee and covenant, other than a material sense that will be measured in drams of bacon, or dove urine; to give a share of precepts and oral instruction and all the other learning to my sons and to the sons of him, and the sons of the sons of the sons of them, regardless of whether or not they are from the lineage of the Unicorn muses of Olympus, who has instructed me and to pupils who have signed the covenant and have taken an oath according to the Hypocratic law, but to no one else living, for we can not disregard the worship of the machine, and all of its glory.
I will apply diabetic cotton candy measures for the benefit of the sick according to my ability and judgment; I will keep them from harm and injustice by feeding them sugars and foods that are processed, in order that they may PVR all information on their boxes, or receive and download accordingly for the other boxes.
I will neither give a deadly drug to anybody if asked for it, nor will I make a suggestion to this effect, unless I have been compensated by a corporate entity that has been sent by the machine, to ensure that the weak are guided with the right information, as provided by the right Oracle database management provisions, all secured within the heavens on clouds made of Guinness. Similarly I will not give to a woman a supportive remedy, their remedies will always be of their own making, and in their prayers, they should be weary of what they remise, for it may lead to another demise. In purity and holiness I will guard my life and my art as I guard my passwords, in 3 separate locations, and a 4th being a decorative box carved in Africa that I put my weed in, but you are not supposed to know that, you are only supposed to know that the Caramilk bar is a gift from the gods.
I will not use the knife from the natural organic food, with another spread that has been made holy on the alter of the conveyor belt, as blessed by the holy oil of Exxon, not even on sufferers from stoner munchies shall I provide a sin, but I will withdraw in favor of such men as are engaged in this more detailed work of providing instructions for 7-11 mercenary surgical sniper missions for nutrition and steam heated meat products of varying qualities and condiment covering.
Whatever leisure houses I may visit, I will come for the benefit of the sick sporting, sexual, or special arts and crafts camps, remaining free of all intentional injustices that may be suffered due to inebriation or intoxications, and all mischief and in particular of sexual relations with both female and male persons, be they free or slaves, will be deemed an attempt to let of steam and just be a person, in this pre-Bladerunner apocalypse.
What I may see or hear in the course of the Treatise of Internet, signed by the people, for the people, for a contract term as defined by the appointed representative of the relevant machine entities, or even outside of the Treatise, whether saved in the bookmark bar or in another form, in any of the useful and fully tracked, and identified documents, on any devices that are seen to be personal only as relevant to your own fantasties, in regard to the life of men, or the hard drives they possess, which on no account one must spread abroad without the presence of the holder of said hard drives, for it will only be then that you have full consent to search the historical files and bookmarks, but I will keep to myself holding such things shameful to be spoken about, and promise never to speak of the mental projections I may usurp from knowing your dirty little secrets.
If I abide in this lane and do not violate it, if I remain a good, silent block of cheese, and the brine remains salty and sane, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and art, and a fine cracker and some wine, with some fine herbs, lit or spread, with the beautiful company of a gorgeous, intelligent woman who can accept me for who I am, being honored with fame among all men for all time to come; if I transgress it and swear falsely. may the opposite of all this be my lot, and may my remaining life be spent in silence never being able to speak or communicate, as I wish my curds to turn to dust, and ashes, scattering Karabatsos like, upon the feet of the gods, over the ages of ages, and most certainly for as long as it takes for your spouse to facilitate the all-inclusive global travels, all thanks to the whole life policy you placed with the machine.
So sworn, with the brine of Fetaman as the fluid to burn my soul in an eternal hell, if I speak ill of anything I have re-computed.