Friday, 19 December 2008

A Christmas Massage

Imagine. Imagine you live in time and place of disease, fear, intolerance and men wearing dresses.
"Aha!" you snigger and say, "wot like now?" You probably even mentally spell it as 'wot'. No, not like now you delirious shitcake. Now, when you can use the toilet without going outside, when international aid efforts try to help the wretched in even the most remote corners and when for some reason people seem to think even HIV isn't worth getting worried about any more. No, now things are piss easy by comparison, even if they aren't perfect.
So, starting again, imagine that you are born into a harsh world where war, plague and famine aren't just facets of the mass entertainment medium or something you see on your gap year. You are in fact born with a mission, to change the world for the better via the apparently simple medium of teaching tolerance. It's essentially a suicide mission that ends horrifically, but your friends and followers carry the message on.
Two millennia later, the message has been diluted to the point of attaching antlers to your pets, burning birds reared in cruel conditions and staring at meaningless cack on TV, the sole purpose of which is to keep you sedated between advert 'breaks'. Not only this, the very region of the world where your message started out is still as much of a sucking chest wound as ever.
Why did you even bother?

On the positive side, at least there's only about seventy Christmases in a lifetime.

No comments:

Post a Comment