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I'm reminded of something Krishnamurti once said, which really hits close to home:
It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.
My answer is consistent: "Because those who make it stay 'this way' will eventually die."
Originally posted by indigothefish
reply to post by joechip
what exactly are you correcting or trying to correct?
i said that since the time of the summerians mankind has been under control, summerian civilization is usually agreed apon as the first civilization, i don't beleive i've made any error.
Originally posted by die_another_day
But if we live happily till the very end, what does it matter?
If we get to eat what we want and play on our iPhones, then why should something else prevent me from being distracted?
I think what we fear most is the "transition" from the Brave New World to Nineteen-Eighty Four.
People's feeble minds won't be able to take it so they are left in a catatonic state.
Orwell: A Hanging
It was about forty yards to the gallows. I watched the bare brown back of the prisoner marching in front of me. He walked clumsily with his bound arms, but quite steadily, with that bobbing gait of the Indian who never straightens his knees. At each step his muscles slid neatly into place, the lock of hair on his scalp danced up and down, his feet printed themselves on the wet gravel. And once, in spite of the men who gripped him by each shoulder, he stepped slightly aside to avoid a puddle on the path.
It is curious, but till that moment I had never realized what it means to destroy a healthy, conscious man. When I saw the prisoner step aside to avoid the puddle, I saw the mystery, the unspeakable wrongness, of cutting a life short when it is in full tide. This man was not dying, he was alive just as we were alive. All the organs of his body were working --bowels digesting food, skin renewing itself, nails growing, tissues forming--all toiling away in solemn foolery. His nails would still be growing when he stood on the drop, when he was falling through the air with a tenth of a second to live. His eyes saw the yellow gravel and the grey walls, and his brain still remembered, foresaw, reasoned--reasoned even about puddles. He and we were a party of men walking together, seeing, hearing, feeling, understanding the same world; and in two minutes, with a sudden snap, one of us would be gone--one mind less, one world less.