join my mailing list
| connect - share - support |
Joshua Brown
Fuck cars. And by that I don't mean that the choices that normal people make in wanting to protect themselves from eradication by a fast-moving and voraciously hungry banking conspiracy are misguided and stupid.
They are wise to do so.
It's a smart move to buy and drive a car.
But out in the open, with the wide lanes we've created to accommodate cars, we have signed our own death note. In this suicidal pact with the devil's that demand we keep them alive by keeping our own selves alive, we have actually dreamed up a new world order that relegates humans, not as humans, but as the drivers.
Think for a moment how many square feet your bedroom is.
That most holy place where you lay your head to rest at the end of a long day of working. How big is it?
How much space is allowed for you to dream upon?
What are dimensions of the room where you enact the most sacred rites of procreation?
How many windows look out from that tabernacle into the world created by God for our benefit?
Now let's look at the square footage relegated to your car. Your garage, your driveway, the portion of the road where you park each night. How much space do you set aside for that barely conscious hunk of steel and plastic that can pierce through the air at 45 miles per hour?
How many windows look out from that steel cage into the world around you, marred by asphalt and concrete, the garden that God made of trees and fungi and grasses? And huddled into that comfortable seat you glide out into the river of other cars that flit to their own well-kept roads.
Hiccups, that's what we used to call them, but now the proper term the snowflakes use is "pot holes" mostly to denote that it's someone else's job to fix them rather than our own.
But God didn't care about any of these issues, in fact, it was just the opposite.
Did you know that there are tiny explosions that propel you forward in your car? Flames spit out, igniting fuel and constricting air, and your car, desperate for air lurches forward to return to a state of equality, only to be denied again and again and that choking for air, built into the nature of the vehicle itself, propels it forward as a slave to physics.
Flames and fire, choking cars desperate for air, flying around at speeds that commonly kill animals, including the bipedal ones we sometimes also call ourselves, humans. But, to blame the big bad government that paves the roads, and, to avoid all personal responsibility, instead of calling it "animalslaughter," like we do with humans, we just call it "roadkill."
Even churches have more real space assigned to cars than it does to the memorials of God or His creation.
Huge expanses of worshipful parking lots give the signal to the other car-worshippers that they are welcome here. No other god has such majestic pillars erected and rules obeyed than that with four wheels and climate control.
Fuck, I forgot about the flames, in every corner of the earth, the flames that we once burned to keep us warm and provide light, surround us on every side, literal billions of flames encompassing the earth, an apocalypse of demonic hell, albeit captured as a commodity to man, race around unseen but still effective at making man pause before he walks from one side of the road to the other. Will this demonic flame-driven bullet hit me or must I wait and allow it to pass before I can simply walk to my destination?
And slowly it was dawning on everyone that something was wrong, not just here in America, but everywhere. Worldwide.
Computers were introduced, which are other little demons that can manipulate and adjust cars behavior. And there was even a small but vocal group of two-wheel promoters. Everyone thought about it but no one was brave enough to do anything about it.
Politicians have power and let's be honest, cars have something called horsepower, in large quantities, and of course, if it has power in the name, the politicians are going to align with it.
Same thing with the cops. Law enforcement is a giant arms race and cars are going to always be at the forefront of the arms creation cycle, mostly because militarily, a road system is the easiest way to move troops and gain intel quick enough to effect military objectives.
Turnagain, turnagain, lost to the directions that the wind blew westward, seeking out some home for the angels that came down looking for Lot among the men of Sodom. You see, we call it technology, not because we know what it is or does, but because we don't fucking care.
Primed by the will to survive, we figured out that cars were here to replace us and instead of allowing for the overt destruction of the human race, we ascribed ourselves their masters, a charitable title given to ourselves for the measly price that we do everything exactly as they demand. We build their roads, we defend them politically, we fund their roads, we clean them, we feed them, we LOVE them.
Not because we ourselves are lovable, in fact, as humans we are but the slough of some leftover species, politically weak and with almost no virtues of our own.
But now it's too late, for if we had had some witness to testify against these our worshippers, we might have had some means to escape from the captivity of being the ruler over these demons. Instead, here we must adapt and plan, not for the next 5 or 10 years, our escape but for our children and grandchildren, we must figure out some method of working with the words and ideas that cars and roads have implanted into our minds and dreams, and somehow work out some future that at least brings dignity back to being human.
The dignity that we afford to every other species than our pets.
And symbiotic though we currently find ourselves, someday we may find independence from the cleverly renamed "oil industry" which is really a new and modern religion gobbling up every other religion that existed before.
---
It was just a nightmare that I awoke to, somehow lying to her, telling her that I had a car when in reality, I didn't. Why did I care at all about what she thought of me and why would I deny her the truth of the life that I had chosen until now.
I didn't really have a good answer when I woke up.
If she really loved me for me, would it really matter whether I could fly across space and time to get our children to a safer place a few seconds quicker than if I just crafted a better relationship with the community and neighbors around me, much closer in geographic terms than the pharma spewing hospitals that we might find ourselves desperate to flee to?
And what did status even matter, if, by spending all that money on a car, I could have put it into bitcoin and had 100 times more money than I did by spending it on a car in the first place?
300 million residents in the United States. And here I was culturally assimilating into the religion I grew up in. Fevered and furious at the lies I was telling myself about my relationship to cars and their shallow association with sex. Maybe God would have loved me more if I had intentionally set about to live out my stated principles and inflict on nature some perpetual machine of rage against the other slaves that went along with what the rest were bearable to endure.
But at some point it was too stifling and lonely. It was lonely because I was endangering myself by being an idealogue in a pragmatic world.
Sure there may be some uniquely brave people that would join me to stand against the anti-natal nature of automobiles, but at what point would any of our bravery have just become foolish endangerment of ourselves or our ideas?
The grasp I had of the world, even very young, riding my bicycle around the streets of Fairbanks, Alaska might have been eradicated by the choice to be overly idealistic or even overly pragmatic. Either way, I knew that I had to honor the memory of my stolen BMX, or the Diamondback I had to sell because I couldn't afford to ship it back on the plane or the Nishiki's that brought me to this open prairie along the Sand Creek in the shadows of the Rockies. The will to survive continues, not just for me, but I hope for every little boy that desires freedom from oppression and wants to speak his dreams and loves without fear of violence.
#cars #religion #nlp #framing #definitions #whatitmeanstobehuman #propaganda
---
Last Post - The China Shop | Recent Poems | Alphabetical Poems
---
📅 Written March 23, 2024
📍 Written in Aurora, Colorado at Joshua's home along Sand Creek
---
I'm not a revolutionary, nor am I really a reactionary, mostly I just identify as a human.
Which is why I love dreams and gut feelings. They help me challenge my current lifestyle, choices and relationships, whether to be nostalgic or to be change-oriented.
Early in my teenage years, I learned about the prophets in the Bible that took accountability for things that "they" didn't do. It was interesting to think about taking responsibility for the world around me, about outcomes and situations that would easily be written off as "out of my hands" but if I took thoughtful action as a response then the outcomes could be significantly different.
These poems and prose that I write about cars aren't meant to be preachy, and if they are please let me know in the comments, but instead they are meant to be real articulations of my feelings and gut instincts. I know that our modern world consists of cars and roads so I'm not on some delusional mission to change every heart and mind to hate cars or something.
Thanks for reading!
Please consider donating, this page lists all the different ways you can give.
Comments
Post a Comment