What’s a JOB? Just Sell Stuff Online.

What’s a Job? Just Sell Stuff Online.

Jobs are too often scarce. Jobs are fussy about your education. Jobs get cut. You don’t need any of that. So, just sell stuff online like countless other people taking over modern commercial space.

What kind of STUFF? Oh. All kinds of STUFF. There is no limit to the kinds of STUFF you can sell and pitch on TV. As long as you’ve got a small factory in your garage, basement or neighborhood, pumping out this STUFF like some non-stop 3-D printer, and a link to the Amazon delivery empire, so you can have your STUFF sent by drone, you won’t ever need to think about seeking another job. If you can manage it, find a “professional” who can promote your STUFF with some phony status that is intended to make you believe the STUFF isn’t going to fail you.

Ain’t that just delightful?

Yes. A world full of dummies selling their STUFF and signing their souls over to Amazon delivery (just delivery…yeah, sure). What a wonderful world. [Bull shat.]

Anyone out there familiar with the Tupperware era? Or, Avon cosmetics? How about Asbestos or that pink insulation promoted by the cartoon Pink Panther?

You know where all of those fads ended? In a heap of what-do-we-do-now and a world scrambling to sort out one more ecological crisis. You may not need or want a JOB, but the world you depend upon for existence might not survive if all you do is contribute to the mass production of STUFF. STUFF is like smoking and alcoholism. It’s easy to slip into, especially if someone provides you with the means to make enough STUFF to satisfy demand. But, when you really think about what you’re doing, if you have any conscience at all, you might get a little nauseous (like I do).

Instead of shipping everybody’s latest variation of something paper or plastic they are trying to make outshine fifty other sellers, we should be discussing pipelines for properly distributing the goods this planet can and does often produce, instead of letting that natural STUFF go to waste. We live in an age/era when nature is somewhat out of balance and animals, not just humans, go hungry.

[And, yet, some groups trying to supply the “hungry” don’t always seem “legit” and may be just passing around food that’s expired or unwanted by fussy folks claiming to be on welfare.]

We have and promote a limited variety of wireless communication options which make just about anything seem possible. If you can connect minds, across the globe, to find common intentions (and interests) willing to work together to achieve a goal, that has to be better than posting a sign in a window or newspaper (or one website). Right? We have the means to reduce the need for income and taxes to zero. And yet, with the contributions of those who like to cause trouble and inject fears (which supposedly can only be cured with the latest “security app” or insurance offering), we humans still struggle with socializing and cooperating. Thus, we see/hear stories of tragic results from poor communication and see ads for services trying to get you into the virtual office of a therapist.

[Am I injecting fear? Maybe. But, I’m not following that with a pitch for some product or service you need to pump with your borrowed money. I’m not selling you anything here.]

There is a mountain of discontent hidden in all of what I just said. And, it’s not going away if you pump out more STUFF. Your conveniently manufactured body paste, sexual stimulant** or wall decor is not going to make the world a better, safer place to exist. It’s just going to give people a temporary, fleeting thrill before it ends up in a landfill of instant gratification failures. Then you and everyone else who didn’t want to work together to resolve the world’s problems is going to be looking for the STUFF that gets them off this doomed planet and moving somewhere safer.

**On that note, we have advertisements for sexual stimulating STUFF (“improving male confidence and stamina” and pleasing women at the same time), on one hand, and, on the other hand, governments debating the rights of humans to use abortion and birth control STUFF to counter what is a biological DUH! from having sex without self-control and common sense (that includes assaulting someone and leaving them pregnant). How dumb do humans have to get before we realize we’re screwing ourselves? Forget I asked. You already know. You just choose to douse yourselves in alcohol and other memory-warping drugs, hoping to forget.

Does your STUFF reduce waste? Eliminate garbage? Recycle garbage in a way that won’t upset stomachs or frighten to death? Does it put an end to ads for charities that are not always true to their word? Does it help reduce world hunger (including the loss of environment for animals other than humans)? Does it bring people together in harmony? Does it cultivate teamwork and friendship? [Or, does it just make people more vain and anti-social like “mean girls?”] Does it avoid feeding a monopoly which could easily wipe out all small businesses and thus end your financial pipeline?

[And, if you say it’s creating jobs by giving job to people who would otherwise struggle to find employment because of past “criminal” or otherwise disapproved behavior/history, I will slap you senseless. Having those people help manufacture and/or package your stuff, until machines take over, is not a positive to promote anywhere. While you are pitching that fabricated American dream, countless other humans are scrambling across national borders, looking for answers to their own misguided lifestyles.]

You know who’s going to be waiting at the exit ramp to abandon Earth? Those wealthy giants you fed with your shipping orders. Your convenient delivery assistants. And, they will decide your fate…kind of like a boss deciding if you should remain on the job.

So, you see, pretending you’re Betty Crocker or the next Mr. Clean isn’t going to last. It all piles up under the launch pad being built by people already looking at other planets to conquer, people who started out with something small and quickly manufactured because it was convenient, a seemingly modest service to the world which became hungry and started eating up other businesses until it no longer looked like a humble business with a singular purpose. And, the old fears of alien races taking over planets won’t be about little gray or green oddballs with big eyes and no body hair…it will be about your fellow human beings (or you, if you are so “fortunate” to become one of the next financial giants). We are the monsters of those alien stories. And, the more we ponder the possibility of selling STUFF, the bigger and dumber our eyes get.

Take me to your Amazon, earthlings.

Before you press the button to set your next whim into production, take a long hard minute to think about what’s ahead.

The Art of Excess

 

On a milestone birthday in the depths of space, a budding artist (with a face full of bubbling, molten craters) opened her eyes and marveled at the new tools provided by her parents. The intense, singeing light of her father and the softer, enchanting glow of her mother came together to wish their daughter well in pursuit of happy growth and enhancement. Vowing to make them proud, the young orb took a deep breath and went to work.

Her early efforts produced a multitude of lifeforms both stationary and mobile. The former consistently worshipped her parents while the latter were free to experiment, giving all who watched a source of amusement. Father and mother were indeed pleased. Their smiles burst with a brilliant energy which could be seen from galaxies away.
“Go on, my child!” said the father. “Create more! It gives your mother and I such joy to see you paint your surface with these colors! One day you shall be the crown jewel of our domain!”

So, the child continued to create and age. But, every now and then, her father and mother would drift apart, leaving her in the cold of deep space to wonder if what she created was still worthy of praise. In a fit of sadness and frustration, she struck herself with a large rock, hoping to free some promising ideas from her already cracked skull. Instead, it erased her vision temporarily, wiping a large portion of the art from her surface. When her parents returned, a new motif had taken over their daughter.

“What’s this?!” gasped the father. “Such a drastic change! What has made you tear down what you already made and replace it with something new?!”

“Father, each time I turned around, you and Mother left me alone,” said the young artist with a sigh. “I did not feel your warmth at my back. I thought you no longer approved of my work.”

“Look how they behave differently when I draw closer in your father’s absence,” said Mother with her cheeks aglow as she separated from her mate. “You honor us with your talents, daughter. Go on. Continue creating. You are just beginning to grow.”

Despite her concern and flickering confidence, the artist did as she was told. Nothing she made gave her the joy she had seen in her parents’ faces. Again and again, she changed her canvas while expending her vital energy (which, at the time of her youth, seemed infinite), each time hoping the next visit of her parents would be happier than the last.

When they did return for her birthday, she had yet another surprise waiting for them. Gazing upon the new creation, Father blew flames to the far reaches of space and withdrew. His color paled from an ardent red-orange to a weaker yellow. “What in the great cosmos are those?! And, what are they doing to each other?!”

Tilting her head ever so slightly, his daughter said, “I have not decided what to call them, yet, as they keep changing on me. I am leaning toward naming them Humanity. What do you think, Mother?”

Though her mate was dismayed, mildly cross and tempted to scorch the young artist’s hide, Mother, impressed with the new lifeforms (which could adapt themselves more readily than any other), showed enthusiasm. “They are certainly unique and interactive.” She paused to look away when one fierce band of the fleshy rebels destroyed another, leaving a gruesome stain on the daughter’s cheek. Refraining from preaching about cleanliness, Mother added, “Keep at it, my child. But, do not be so hasty to destroy what you have made. Let it mature with you. You continue to grow in wisdom though experience. Some day, you will shine as bright as your mother or–maybe–your father.”

With those encouraging words, the still youthful artist returned to her labors, working with her latest creation to “enhance” her appearance. [Meanwhile, her parents ventured off in mounting disagreement.] As the years rolled by, the ever-mutable clay of “Humanity” grew in quantity and violence, gradually wiping away portions of her previous work. Just when it seemed like the restless, pale and balding creatures might destroy themselves and everything remaining with them, a new crop would appear to start a revolution. But, the lifeless remnants of the previous batch never seemed to fully disappear. The cosmic strength to absorb injury and clear away the messes made diminished. Eventually, after several expansive conflicts, the bewildering competition amassed heaps of debris on the heavenly creator’s face.

At the dawn of her next birthday, her parents displayed looks of horror. Lakes of toxic sludge and smoking mountains of heavy filth nearly covered every inch of their daughter’s skin. They could barely see her worrisome expression and hear her trailing voice as she pleaded, “Father! Mother! Help me! I have lost control! I am falling apart from within! Help me!”

But, they could do nothing short of wiping her from the cosmos. Reflecting upon her own potentially misguided wisdom, Mother wept. Father slapped himself for being so hasty and persistent in the pursuit of pride. In search of other worlds to litter and ravage, some of the daughter’s tiny parasites ventured deep into space with the ships she provided. Following the errant paths of the wasteful machines over their shoulders, the parents retraced the eons of their previous attempts at raising children and wondered how their neighbors, the Andromeda family, fared so well. [What did they truly know about their neighbors? And, did they need to snoop?]

                                                                           *******

“Surprise!” cheered her parents, stirring the young artist from her slumber. The latter rubbed her eyes and followed the visual cues of the former along the curves of her weathered frame. Though she had found herself drowning in darkness and despair only a moment ago, she was now glowing with a renewed sense of peace and a vigor. Gone were the mounds of death and destruction. Those tiny pests she had created were now working together as one happy community, no longer fighting over materials or each other. And, the older forms once thought doomed to extinction were now given their fair share of space to live as Humanity did.

“Happy birthday, my daughter,” said Mother with an earnest smile. “Just look at you, now. So grown-up. So mature. And, to think, a few eons ago, you were ready to throw yourself into the black hole because of some hideous eruption on your face.”

Her father, showing his age with the faintest tint of red in his thinning cheeks and forehead, added, “You have never looked lovelier than you do today, my child. You honor us both. And, look, our neighbors have brought you presents.”

The woozy artist squinted over her parents’ shoulders to see the handful of colorful visitors in the distance, each with tiny surprises headed her way. Neglecting to mention the former identity of the rock chosen as a meeting place, Mother and Father cleared the asteroid field to welcome the guests. Everyone had such a joyous time at the birthday party…

…Except for one tiny solar-powered ship carrying a lone green explorer who steered clear of all the commotion. He didn’t dare venture closer to those he could not yet understand. Instead, he continued his journey through space, watching the universe drift by as he decided what to do with the rest of his life.

 

 

~Writingbolt, 7-26-2014

What Is Human Nature? We May Never Know

The human being is so complex. After thousands of years, we still do not know its limits or greatest potential. And, yet, man continues to taint and tamper with nature–including the environment and the body itself–with countless pollutants. How can we ever grasp human nature when it’s perpetually contaminated?

In pursuit of science, like the temptation for girls to strip down their dress-up dolls and smear them with graffiti instead of appreciating the creation as it is made, humans spoil the opportunity to understand each other and themselves. And yet, even when it’s not considered scientific research/testing, humans take chances with what surrounds/appears before them, like a school kid in a cold winter city daring to stick his tongue to a flag pole in the middle of a deep freeze. Are we no better now than the cavemen or natives who had to determine which berries were safe to eat?

What if all our “advancements” are nothing more than alternative routes to the same malfunction under a different trending name? What if we could do better by buying into less, not relying on products and services to pamper us and simply observing our surroundings and instincts (not our impulses/temptations) more often? What if we are wasting SO much time, energy and resources on experiments that all ultimately fail to do anything more than temporarily alter our outlook on what is inevitable? [Meanwhile, buyers fill the pockets they do not possess with seemingly (the previous being the key word) endless money and/or power. And, countless others either starve or squander their souls to cheat someone for their hasty, short-sighted benefit, simply because humans fail to work together.]

If you were to imagine yourself as an alien/outsider (saving the expense of crafting and sending some gizmo into deep space to reach out to the unknown which may only end up as more space garbage), employed to survey and sum up the nature of human beings, which of the following would you choose to voice your opinion?

1) “The human being is a constantly changing and viciously circling chemical trip, similar to what they call a roller coaster, a ride intended for amusement which goes in a loop, stirring emotions while risking bouts with hysteria and/or nausea. They change the shape of the track, affecting the range and pattern of reaction, but it’s still just a loop.”

2) “The human being is the bud of the (yet unknown name) flower, like a tadpole precedes a frog. Given time, the evolved form will earn the ego the human perceives to be deserved and become the rightful dominant species of the planet Earth without any capacity for war, experimentation, disease and/or segregation.”