twenty-two seconds to live

“… they failed to take into account man’s almost infinite appetite for distractions.” -Aldous Huxley, Brave New World Revisited.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the future of American civilization.  I live in a world where, because of my home life, I am exposed to a significantly larger amount of “pop culture” than I would be inclined to seek out on my own.  So little of what we consume is authentic in any capacity, with the most damning thing being the moniker “reality television.”

Lady Gaga is a prototype that in one or two iterations will be an organic marionette, the glorification of vapidity and headless sexuality.

In seeking to broaden the scope of reach and depth of penetration of marketing, have we obviated that the future thinkers and architects of civilization will come from within the target demographic?  How can children that are raised on media consumption in its current form go on to develop the analytical and cognitive abilities necessary to even perpetuate the status quo.  Will it all be automated by then, Idiocracy- or god-forbid Terminator-style?

I built a bookcase for my wife for Christmas.  Hopefully it will be around long after I am gone.  That seems to be novel and quaint now.  Is the concept of an heirloom outmoded?  Have we stopped – in a general sense – making them?  What do you intend to pass materially to your children?  Now, did any of that originate with you, or was it passed to you by a previous generation?  What are we making now that is built to last?

Television does not discover, reveal, and broaden the reach of previously-unknown cultural phenomena, It creates them out of whole cloth.  Ed Hardy wasn’t some cool brand that was spotted on a bunch of trend-setters and piped to everyone else.  A nigh-blitzkrieg of placement within a staggering number of reality shows and on cut-rate celebrities literally built a market for the merchandise out of thin air.  The upside to this is that there is no other reason to wear one of these items, so it can safely be assumed that anyone you see with some of this stuff either a) subscribes to the alternate reality of mass media, or b) is a paid shill.

The lack of a connection with the rest of the world fostered by modern living creates a sense of unease in me, and causes me to have flickers of odd desire, like someone with an iron deficiency wanting to gorge themselves on steak uncharacteristically.  I want to drive across the country on a motorcycle.  I want to live off of the land for an extended period of time.  I want to write a novel, though I don’t have any idea what it would be about.  Robert Pirsig wrote at length about value and quality, and I have a sense that the last shreds of it are slipping away from us – from me.  Everything is disposable.

Everything I want to do requires me to buy something, and that makes me sad sometimes.  The knife that Bear Grylls uses costs over $700.  Do I need that?  I am not Bear Grylls, though I sometimes fancy myself capable of doing what he does.  At least, I think I would be if I were forced to do so.  Motorcycles.  Typewriters.  If I want to do any more significant woodworking, I need at least a table saw.  And sawhorses.  It doesn’t stop.

Individualism is still capitalism in these parts.  He who shuns the system is still a consumer, just of different products.  Google will serve me advertisements relevant to my interests all the same.