marți, 19 aprilie 2011

The Yes Generation

Go on, say it. Say yes to money and say yes to shopping. That's easy. Say yes to reality shows and to a 9 to 5 schedule. To marriage and to happily ever after. Say yes to cheap socks, to orange juice made of 100% natural concentrate. Say yes to prescription drugs the way you say yes to tobacco and to Jesus Christ.  Say yes to giving away pocket change to save a child. Say yes to McDonalds, to Facebook, to Apple. It's that easy. Say yes to liberalism and say yes to national values.

You have to say it, you have to be the Yes Man. Even saying no for a change falls in the same pattern. It is saying yes to opposition, to argument, to reaction, to negation. The cover up yes. The trick is to formulate the question so that the answer can only be yes. Do you still have hope? There is always some hope laying around, otherwise you wouldn't be here. While you still breathe you can manage hope out of thin air. Even shit will do. Especially shit. Shit is the mother of hope. Do you love me? You got to love someone. Else what? Else nothing. You just have to. Loving is like peeing: you're giving everything and soon after you are back again in the loo. Do you want a fabulous win? And so on.

The little boy takes out his notepad. It is a green one, inside are orange pages. The boy is hazel eyes and the words are black ink. He opens the eyes and the words get written on the pages. The words are there for the eyes to read. He puts down the things he said yes to. He said yes to saving his mom. He said yes to pleasing his father. Yes to doing good at school so to get a fine job so to have enough money so to live a decent life. The boy underlines "decent" twice. He doesn't know what that means. In fact, he'll never know, but this word will follow him all his life, like a metal imprint attached to his brain. So will: normal, and beautiful, and kind.

If for once we'd say no. No - to what we see, to what we are told. To newspapers, to instant coffee, to Valentine's day. If we'd keep the yes just for ourselves. Would mother cry, would father yell? Would the mandoline fall broken on the carpet? Would mother run with the boy in her arms, would she fall down on the stairs, would she hide her baby in a dark corner? You see, as much as we'd like to fight, we all have our reasons to say yes.

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