Saturday, March 5, 2011

Are you also divergent, friend?

Telephone call? Telephone call?
That's communication with the outside world.
Doctor's *discretion*.
Nuh-uh. Look, hey - all of these nuts could just make phone calls, they could spread insanity, oozing through telephone cables, oozing into the ears of all these poor sane people, infecting them.

Wackos everywhere, plague of madness. 

There's the television.
It's all right there - all right there.
Commercials! We're not productive anymore. We don't make things anymore. It's all automated.

What are we *for* then?
We're consumers, Jim.
Okay, okay.
Buy a lot of stuff, you're a good citizen.
But if you don't buy a lot of stuff, if you don't, what are you then, I ask you?


Mentally *ill*.

Fact, Jim, fact - if you don't buy things:
toilet paper,
new cars,
computerized yo-yos,
electrically-operated sexual devices,
stereo systems with brain-implanted headphones,
screwdrivers with miniature built-in radar devices,
voice-activated computers...
I don't really come from outer space.

Don't mock me my friend. 
It's a condition of mental divergence. 
I find myself on the planet Ogo, part of an intellectual elite, preparing to subjugate the barbarian hordes on Pluto. 
But even though this is a totally convincing reality for me in every way, nevertheless Ogo is actually a construct of my psyche. 
I am mentally divergent, in that I am escaping certain unnamed realities that plague my life here. 
When I stop going there, I will be well. 

Are you also divergent, friend?