When we discover one of Mother Nature’s beloved treasures, our hypergenetic mix conjures up clever ways to morph it from a commodity to a rare and precious element.
Some call that practicing alchemy without a license.
We then fabricate a market for our new chef-d’œuvre, crank up the propaganda motors, and gradually jack the price until even the tipping point itself feels the full length of the red-hot poker and squeals.
Then we sit back, watch the suckers buy into the fraud, empty their pockets of coin they don’t have, and count our billions. [Cue the short, fat, bald, fugly dude, vigorously rubbing hands together.]
There must be a specific gene that codes for this behavior.
Infamy runs deep in our culture: it starts wars (think: Pearl Harbor and 9/11), topples governments and world leaders, gently steers unknowing citizens thissaway and thattaway, all the while fulfilling dark geopolitical and geoeconomic agendas.
Epidemics also seem to correlate with these infamies, as if they were another means to decimate a given population.
Witness: Exhibit A, the current opioid epidemic sweeping across America, the south of France, Teutonic central Europe, and to at least two corners of the Earth. It appears to go hand in hand with the subtle destruction of our society. All aspects of it, should you be inclined to ask.
It’s origins are thousands of years old. The opium, not the epidemic.
Like every other valuable organic, it’s humble beginnings grew out of China.
Just kidding, it was ancient Persia, where an entire country pitched in to create the world’s largest poppy-cultivation farm and opium-production plant. Seems everyone was on the payroll, even four year olds, who apparently learned how to trip while on the job and not get fired for overconsumption or general urchin mischief.
I’m eager to see where this current inspissation goes. Right now, it’s kickin’ the crap outta millions of Americans, French and Teutonics.
MEET YOUR AUTHOR
Tripsy South is a freestyle writer and editor. She’s the author of the quirky novel, SUICIDE TANGO: My Year Killin’ It With A Shrink.