The Pot is beginning to warm folks...
I'm sure we are all familiar with the tale of the Frogs who couldn't be boiled alive as they would leap from the Pot, but who could be simmered to death quite deliciously.
Whilst on-line I travel through a dark Wonderland, besmeared with patches of cloying advertising sentiments produced in treacle and candy-colored splashes like shattered soap bubbles from a Machine...
Despite this pollution, when I travel down those chattering cables and into cyber-realms I am renewed and reinvigorated.
I sense a rising awareness, and often find myself among the reassuring company of like-minded people with similar goals.
However this cosy awareness is all eclipsed in a flash, when I disconnect and step outside into the blistering light of day.
Suddenly I am in the 'Real' Wonderland...A world where everything is calm and ordered, hectic and mad all crammed into the same moment.
Where cool, officious Secretaries plan breathlessly for their next Party-on-a-boat with the office-girls from across the corridor.
Watch, as they dance about in their coiffured, perfumed world.
Others equally oblivious, plan for abstract payments on a thirty-year mortgage, without ever taking a glance along the looming horizon.
A monolithic machine has been constructed within this Wonderland.
A machine of blind malevolence which stealthily murders Time each night in our chambers, stabbing softly with falsely comforting messages, and frequent plot shifts and catchy melodies and look, the next day is dawning...
Tick Tock, Tick Tock, the giant clock in our heads is ticking louder...and faster.
Everyone is busily going about their daily humdrum.
Its nose to the grindstone, its all hands on deck...
But exactly what kind of deck is it?
Only Fools go where Angels fear to tread, to which Port then sails this Ship Of Fools?