So why don’t I want an Amazon Prime account? Well, several reasons, but the deepest of them is the same as the reason why I possess very little personal technological gadgetry and have no truck with social networking facilities. It isn’t because I can’t afford them or because I’m a reactionary in my attitude to modern times; it’s because they lie at the surface of a deeper issue: the smell of mother culture (which is similar to Daniel Quinn’s ‘hum of mother culture’, but with a different slant.)
It’s all to do with a culture which substitutes lifestyle for life; a culture based increasingly on the predominance of money, which makes the rich richer and more complacent while the poor become poorer and more stressed; a culture which seeks to buy the heart and soul of the masses and pays them with candyfloss laced with a soporific narcotic. To me, the culture smells bad and I dislike bad smells. It’s why I function at the edge of this way if life, taking just as much as I need to walk my own road and keep in touch with the few people worth keeping in touch with.
I could write reams about this, but I’m tired. And I do realise that touching on it so briefly and in such a perfunctory manner will probably result in misunderstanding. I stand to be shot at with accusations of hypocrisy and heaven knows what else. OK, but why should I care? I think I’ll move on now and write the post about my inestimable stock in the local community.
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