Our freedom is useless without the involvement of violence. So let the empty shells chime like liberty bells as they collapse onto the floors of classrooms, holiday parties, schools, kindergartens, city streets, and wherever the spark of rage implodes.
We watch high resolution images pan across a screen, a teasing reality which stimulates the senses to produce a docile reaction from the brain. But it’s still a moment we control; a screen blackened from button mashing is the mortal version of the sun “burning out.” We have spread this control like wildfire across the spectrum of human inventions. Images of Kylie Jenner are as fluent to me as the casualties of a massacre, and I have the ability to let both into my life as little, or as much as I want. I can understand the sentimentality of preferring to view a pretty girl as opposed to a headless body. But like Ichabod Crane we must be careful not to lose ourselves after viewing the headless. For fear will motivate stronger than respect.
The absurdist type of celebrity is the serial killer. I suspect that why serial killing draws a large audience is because we see ourselves in the murderers. What’s the difference between a popular musician declaring pride in a kill and Ed Gein wearing his kill? Both are representations of trophy worship. Both acquire vast fame, but only one will acquire millions in revenue as well. We’ve even adopted the serial killing approach as a method of diplomacy. Through fanfare headlines and patriotic pomp we’ve turned it into a grandiose spectacle worthy of celebrating. When gas prices lower I cringe while pondering over those who died to make it such an affordable price. But if I were to learn from actions instead of declarations-I would say convenience appears to trump empathy. For if I really cared I would be in mourning each time I gassed up.