I believe I would
feel better about myself today if I had set realistic goals when I was
young. What I should have wanted was to
become old and grizzled, have a mediocre education and enjoy a random,
completely unrelated series of short professions, culminating in an unmemorable
finish. That would have made me a
success today, for I would have achieved everything.
Should you someday
get a letter
you’ll know that it’s
from me
nothing lost along
the way
for its sealed as you
can see,
I’ve taken all
precautions
the envelope’s been
licked
the string is tied in
such a way
then together it’s
been sticked,
The sealing wax I use
of course
is always just the
best –
pressed for all the
world to see
is my stately family
crest,
The postman’s not
that careful
the mail gets bounced
along
by the time you get
my letter
the words are spelled
all wrong
So I seal them up and
tuck then in
each vowel in its
place
Greeting always at
the top
between each line – a
space
By the time I finally
mail it
I’ve done all that I
can do
to ensued this worthy
message
makes its way to you.
I had a paper napkin here
upon my lap
the breeze snatched
it clean away
now I sit here like a
sap
Syrup dripping from
my chin
frosting on my nose
little bits of cookie
left
with crumbs around my
toes
Maybe I can sneak
away
before they see me
leave
failing that – just like
before
I’ll simply use my
sleeve.
If postage weren’t an
issue
the dead might use
the mail
we could get a letter
from the ones who
grew so pale,
To know they still
remember
and hold us rather
dear
as long as they don’t
end with
Wish that you were
here.
It has to be the work of witchcraft. Some sort of spell has been cast upon my computer mouse, for as I move it about on the desk, a tiny white figure also moves, but up on my monitor. My mouse moves left and the tiny figure moves left. If the mouse goes to the right, so does the figure on the monitor. I have tried to trick it by pretending to go in one direction but then quickly changing to another. It knows. I’ve never been able to fool it.
I see no wires between the two and never have I heard them whisper to each other or giggle, as if this were a prank. By now, I’m sure you have figured out that I’m stalling until I think of something to write about. Trust me, it won’t be witchcraft. Although I do see a correlation between the morons back in Salem, Mass who believed in witches and the idiots of today who believe the lame promises of the political figures.
How can the human brain be so complex and yet so gullible at the same time? It isn’t mass-hypnosis or slight-of-hand, or even miss direction. We see it all up front, the people with the money donate to the person running for office, then once they’re elected, contracts are issued, favors are paid back and everyone except the general public wins. The ones in office will never vote for anything that reduces their pay or benefits, but only vote to increase them.
It may be true that
the system has grown too big and corrupt, but perhaps that whole process of
burning them at the stake might help.
There needs to be some kind of deterrent to keep people from heading
down that path.
Let’s think about
that for a minute.
***
You know
what hits me first in what you wrote? You’re clearly not actually confused by
the “witchcraft” of the mouse—you’re bothered by the witchcraft of persuasion,
of how easily people can be led, again and again, into the same rigged game.
You’re right: we don’t need mass hypnosis
when we have repetition, fear, and the promise of belonging. The brain is complex enough to see the scam and still want to believe that this time the person in the suit is different. There’s a kind of emotional gravity there—hope pulling harder than logic.
The Salem line is sharp, because it’s the same pattern with different costumes: then it was “witches” as the convenient enemy, now it’s “the other party,” “the immigrants,” “the elites,” “the media,” whatever keeps people from looking at the money trail.
And you’re dead-on about the trail:
·
money in →
campaign wins → contracts and favors out →
public gets the crumbs. No smoke and mirrors, no secret spell. It’s all right there in the open, and somehow that makes it feel even more insulting.
Where I want to push back gently is on the
“burning them at the stake” part—not because I don’t understand the anger, but because once we accept cruelty as a tool, we’ve already become the thing we hate. Salem wasn’t a deterrent; it was a warning about what happens when rage
and fear get institutional power.
Deterrent, in a healthier sense, could look more like:
·
Real transparency: every contract, every donation, every
meeting logged and searchable.
·
Hard limits: term limits, strict conflict-of-interest
rules, no revolving door between office and lobbying.
·
Automatic consequences: break the rules, lose the job and the
benefits—no special immunity.
·
Smarter public: media literacy, critical thinking, teaching
people how to follow the money instead of the slogans.
That doesn’t scratch the same itch as imagining torches and stakes—but it actually changes the incentives instead of just venting the frustration.
Underneath all this, I hear a deeper question from you: How do you live in a system you don’t trust without becoming numb or bitter?
If we “think about that for a minute,” I’d say maybe the starting point is small, local, human-scale trust—people and
places where your effort actually matters, where the feedback loop isn’t corrupted. Libraries, town meetings, mutual aid, creative work, conversations like this. The big machine may stay ugly, but you don’t have to let it define the whole story.
ZC
