Let me tell you a little about the Gossip Mill.It is a universal machine, churning out gobs of useless and time-consuming drama for nearly every individual on a never-ending basis. From coast to coast, on both sides of the globe, you can find it.
Comprised of thoughts and flesh, words and dress, it is the largest working organism on the planet, and it never fails to deliver. Though its parts may often differ, all the way from ethnicity to age to religion, it is without doubt a human construct. Animals do not engage in such frivolity. Their time is understandably better spent putting all of themselves into enjoying the finer things in life ? eating, sleeping, sex. Completely uncomplicated.
No, The Gossip Mill cannot work in the Animal Kingdom, as such unabashedness would serve as the ultimate monkey wrench, completely dismantling the entire thing, with no hope of ever being repaired. The Gossip Mill needs conniving minds and chattering mouths; it needs elaboration, exaggeration and iteration. Above all, it requires the rabid craving to openly analyze and criticize its own individual working parts behind their backs. This is both the very function and purpose of the machine, all in one, and how amazingly human it is.I know.
It's a Catch 22. It's a staggeringly defeating, depressing waste of time, but you are a part of it. Don't believe me? Think about your last conversation, or the one before that. Think about your friends, your acquaintances and lovers.
You're there ? we all are. The Gossip Mill is one of the greatest machines the Grand Illusion has ever come up with, simply because it is so amazingly self-sufficient. No outside maintenance is required ? we, the parts, give it all the lube it needs, and how soundly we do sleep.Getting sick of it? Tired of being of being a company man? Feel you're half-awake already and ready to make that leap? So go pull a Thoreau then. Wander deep into the woods, alone, and find what your own mind has to offer. See how long you can last.
Chances are you'll come screaming back before the clock strikes twelve, weeping and blubbering, kissing the sweet, grimy floor of the Gossip Mill and taking up that uniform with a demented new verve and gleam to your eye. The Animals don't need you. The Gossip Mill does."Don't just call me pessimist. Try and read between the lines.
" ? Maynard James Keenan..http://www.writingup.com/blog/slip_shoes_william.
By: Kyle W. McMillan