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Television
Clip
Powerful man.
Under the glare of the television lights he looks small. He's been
caught in flagrante delicto. The illusion of authority crumbles.
His betrayal is understandable but seems somehow ordinary writ large
on the small screen. He shrivels under the assault of noise, light,
and anticipation.
He has been
caught in the throes of disloyalty. A Fawkesian plot uncovered at
the last moment.
Call Centre
Faceless man
speaks with another faceless man. The call has come in. Mundane
telephony discussed. Apparently a payphone somewhere can't receive
calls.
Somewhere
, to the raspy hysterical voice on the one end, is the local mental
hospital. A hard man he understands the vagaries of the city's skid
row. He knows all about the payphones in Pigeon Park. How the phones
there can receive calls (they are the main means of conducting the
region's most prominent drug trade). How come he can't receive calls
in the place he is now?
Accusing.
His voice stares
through the prisons, connected by copper wires, which separate them.
He asks, "Shouldn't
a guy get calls in a hospital?"
The phone in
the hospital has been programmed to allow outgoing calls only. The
man with the knowledge of this actual, cruel reality can't bear
to tell this to the man on the end of the line.
They speak
of cedar trees instead. About how the trees from the Coastal Rainforest
create the best telephone poles. The patient prisoner was once a
telephone pole faller.
Fundraiser
Powerful man
at podium asks: "Why can't the citizens of the country have access
to health care, social security, social justice, whilst enjoying
unprecedented prosperity."
Wealth. The
suggestion is that means create ends. Opportunity. That through
prosperity a nation can achieve its dreams. This man has more wealth
than the operator in the call centre, or the prisoner in the mental
hospital can ever dream of. Yet, this man is thwarted. The leader
who is unable to lead. Thwarted by other powerful men. Means can't
achieve everything seems to be the bitter lesson.
For the man
in the mental hospital what will wealth do for him? Will it ultimately
allow him to receive calls in prison? Will having a job bring him
mental and spiritual peace?
Wealth hasn't
allowed the powerful man at the podium to achieve his dreams. He's
still only the second most powerful citizen of the country.
The call centre
gentleman approaches him. A faceless man, approaching one whose
face is recognizable on every street in the nation.
Up close the
second in command is different. Composed, interested charisma combined
with a wealth of personal experience. On a television screen his
charisma is muted, his sincerity muffled by the unrelenting demand
for information. Where are we going? Where will you lead us? Will
you lead us? Why do you want to? Why should you?
The faceless
man starts to speak and sputters. What does one who is nothing say
to those who are something? The leader, in his natural capacity,
leads. He asks, "What's your name young man?" The faceless identified.
The powerful
and the unknown have become connected, if only for a brief instant.
Fast Food
The woman behind
the counter is overweight. In her late teens, she has a soft smile.
She serves the reams of impersonal their daily ration of pleasurable
fat. All meals the same.
Another faceless
man comes to the counter. Over the course of his journey he has
spoken with potential potentates, and the actually insane. At this
moment he's thinking only of this precious unknown whom he is about
to encounter.
His silent
contemplation is broken by the sound of a familiar voice. A voice
that demands phone service. And now mustard. In a cup.
He shouts,
"Why can't I get it in a cup?"
Another girl
answers, " 'Gainst store policy, sir."
"Well then
I ain't eatin' my burger." He yells. Turns. Goes to his table. Picks
up the burger. Brings it back. Open.
Authority arrives.
"What's the
problem here?" A supervisor asks.
He sneers,
"She ain't givin' me mustard."
The supervisor
attempting to ameliorate his demands replies, "We can give you mustard
on your burger but not in a cup."
The burger
man, his voice pitching higher pleas, "Why the hell can't I have
it in a cup then?"
The supervisor
retorts, "It's against the store policy, sir." He knows that placing
mustard on a burger is more efficient, it creates wealth for shareholders,
saving the pennies that are wasted on the cup and the excess inevitably
left inside.
The burger
man, whose demand seems quite crazy, is suddenly placated.
It's against
the rules.
The supervisor
passes the burger to an assistant. He reaches inadvertently for
the ketchup.
The man howls
across the kitchen, "Don't you know the difference between mustard
and ketchup?" "What am I paying for here?"
Dreams
Can these unconnected
experiences actually coincide in the mind? Were these dreams? Images
evoked from past experiences, whether real, virtual or imagined?
How can one
understand his life when the lives of others seem so baffling?
In the end
we have rules to manage this misunderstanding. Rules create a sense
of understanding, in that they proscribe and predicate means of
behaviour.
In order to
lead, one must respect the leader.
In order to
lie, one must change the subject.
In order to
live, one must eat.
In order to
understand, one must control.
Always control.
With control comes prosperity.
Through rules,
the world can create wealth, protect shareholders, keep coin phones
in order, build hospitals and shut people inside them, build offices
in which to do the same, and of course, control succession, and
deposition.
Instead of
ketchup one can have mustard. On a bun. With rules, one can create
a facade of sense.
And misery
continues to sound. A grating, frustrating voice. Demanding justice.
Copyright
© 2000 Robert F. Delamar. All Rights Reserved
Robert F. Delamar
believes in the power of the state, the church and rock n' roll.
He's the Managing Editor of *spark-online.
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