From No More Fake News
Trumpets blare. In the night sky, spotlights roam. A great confusion of smoke and dust and fog, and emerging banners carry the single message:
The great meltdown of all consciousness into a glob of utopian simplicity...
There are denizens among us.
They present themselves as the Normals.
Beyond all political objectives, there is a simple fact: those group-mind addicts who have given up their souls will rage against the faintest appearance of one who tries to keep his. And in this rage, the soulless ones will try to pull the other down to where they live.
Are you with the family or not? Are you with the group, the collective, or not? Those are the blunt parameters.
"When you get right down to it, all you have is family." "Our team is really a family." "You're deserting the family." "Our department is like a family." "Here at Corporation X, we're a family."
The committee, the group, the company, the sector, the planet.
The goal? Submerge the individual.
Individual achievement, imagination, creative power? Not on the agenda. Something for the dustbin of history.
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World: "'Ninety-six identical twins working ninety-six identical machines'! The voice was almost tremulous with enthusiasm. 'You really know where you are. For the first time in history.'"
George Orwell, 1984: "The two aims of the Party are to conquer the whole surface of the earth and to extinguish once and for all the possibility of independent thought."
For some people, the collective "WE" has a fragrant scent -- until they get down in the trenches with it. There they discover odd odors and postures and mutations. There they discover self-distorted creatures scurrying around celebrating their twistedness.
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