Metanoia

Is the convenient nature of artificial gratification inherently bad, in and of itself? Decidedly no. Inauthentic pleasure -traditionally solved the luxury paradox of working families with kids, very real problems, salarymen on the go, the casually wealth-starved – can be good fun. If you walk down an overpopulated road in a Mumbai slum or work in an open-air market in Wuhan, you’ll see that quick pleasure, often enjoyed wherever however and whenever, means you don’t have to be part of the hideous generic sprawl of soul-destroying sameness stretching through Europe and Asia, wrapping around the Americas. Vicious, devouring and mind-numbing cycles alienating compassion and sympathetic prompts. The unbelievably high stakes of living in an avaricious consumerist bingeing world prompt no twangs of conscience if you wanted to get premium black tar or jerked off from a £70 per hour mouth. Inflation means a decent hummer will not come cheap.

These moveable series of fast fun for the average no-necked arterially clogged rube are not subject to other controllable variables that the rest of the public and private sectors need worry about. In these insular worlds, there are no guilt pangs with which to help change your mind from being overfed hits in a vicious cycle that few are tragically unequipped to escape, so little is gained from stopping that fun. Each pixilated refuge, each greasy bite and heartburn, each corpulent embrace sharing stale air amongst their insecurities, each pathetic low ebb, each dirty private personal secret, an oversaturated palette of vices, each are all part of a need to feel that something was in people’s control. Something they could create or destroy away from the scheming subterfuge of two-faced, self-preserving, Machiavellian, intransigent, conservative, deceitful, hypocritical bastards, all the conniving properties of high-ranking polis politicos. Fast fun becomes the buffer zone in which you blur the edges of daily life making it liveable in anticipation of the next hit. The horizon is full of question marks — global, political and personal. People are overwhelmed with choices and with the unknown. As creature comforts of artificial fun go, they know – at least in broad strokes – what’s coming. Instant, logic-consuming comfort.