A friend found this while she was doing some research for her politics essay..
What Is Politics?
A little boy goes to his dad and asks, “What is politics?”
Dad says, “Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me capitalism. Your Mom, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the Government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the people. The nanny, we’ll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we’ll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,”
So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed. The next morning, the little boy says to his father, “Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.”
The father says, “Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about.”
The little boy replies, “Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in deep poo.
…. but then they danced down the street like dingledodies and I shambled after as usual as I’ve been doing all my life after people that interest me, because the only people who interest me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yearn or say a commonplace thing…. but burn, burn, burn like Roman candles across the night.
OK, I’m listening to Bjork right now and I have never, EVER, been this mind-fucked. So many thoughts are racing through my head right now - dirty, holy, reflexive, selfish - you name it. I probably thought about it in the past 30 or so minutes.
Once again I’m stuck.
Stuck in between so many situations that I have desperately tried to runaway from. When I was away a few weeks ago, I tried to regain my old self, my prior composure. I kept saying to myself - this too shall pass (credits to a friend who posted this as her BBM status, I am yet to get over this phrase). I can’t cling on to the memories of what I had, all the while hoping (in vain) that my memories of the passe would somehow make their way to my present existence. It wouldn’t be healthy - being nostalgic is eerily similar to watching an old wound heal and fade. The imprinted scars stood for something that we once had and shared, and as time obscures its outlines, what we’re left with is the faint, dull, persistent (phantom, if I may?) pain that traps us in this past time-frame. The pain lingers, and rebounds as we look at these souvenirs of the past. When the scars, finally distorted through time, fade.. Nothing. We know we had them for a reason, but that reason dissolves slowly, escaping our logic, evading our minds as the scars heal and disappears..
So I let it go. Hoping my past debaucheries and mistakes wouldn’t catch up with me. But it did, and now I’m sitting on the bottom of my own grave, the very same one that I dug with my own hands.
I guess some wounds do leave a permanent imprint on our Earthly bodies.
And if material scars sometimes stays with us until that final moment of decay and decomposition..
What will happen to the scars that afflict our metaphysical self?
