Besides being primitive as Hell despite our best attempts to seem all "Future-y" (and why not? The 40's and 50's had given us ample predictions of future life, with flying cars, teleportation, perfect health and silvery jump suits for all), being over 60 also includes things bending that never bent before while other things, things that had always bent, no longer do. Vision, hearing, taste, memory - all take a nose dive, unless you have loads of cash, or "credits", as the 50's would have had us believe we would all have oodles of. Credits we earn through our 2 hour per week job, perfectly suited to our personal preferences and skill sets, which we absolutely LOVE, and scarcely even think of as work. That 2 hour schedule, plus the enormous amount of credits we receive, leaves us with both the time and the means to turn our energies to science, the arts, and generally making the world a better place for all who occupy this once magnificent ball of dirt. So, yeh. All disease, poverty, racism, crime, class disparity have all been eradicated, and we live in perfect harmony, wanting for nothing. The ugly, depressing reality isn't even close. Anyone not belonging to the hated, yet obeyed, venerated and pandered to, 1% is forced to toil away at total shit jobs for long hours and crap pay just to stay alive. Some even have to work multiple jobs, and some of those who slave for the Walton family (at least in the U.S.A.) have to draw social assistance even with a "full time" job. Sad, innit? Sad that rich fucks can't seem to share. Sad that, even though we hugely outnumber them, the streets remain dry, rather than running red with the blood of the elite. Think about it, we could easily slaughter the lot of them, and it would hardly even cut into our afternoon. Think about it.
Now, as an elderly gent, I must nap.Until next time, be safe and don't take any shit.
TRS
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I had a conversation with some one I met on the skytrain a little while ago along the same lines. The funniest part was how it ended. A man in a nice tailored suit, designer dress shoes (I’m guessing his whole get up was worth more than I make in 2 weeks) and a plastic smile butted into our conversation. He reminded us that our conversation could be thought of as treasonous. I smiled back and said, “wouldn’t be my first time!” And then me and the guy I was actually talking to laughed while Mr John Q. Public did not. What I wouldn’t give to know his address! Lol!
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