These are strange times. Adrift, no moral compass, our every reality is being twisted and shredded, as if we were in the grip of some black hole. Eaten alive and spit out the back end. Or some equally obscene metaphor that boils down to “everything’s going to hell lately.”
Once-sane people are doing dastardly deeds and pretending they’re normal. Pretending their deeds are normal, too. And it’s happening so often it seems it will keep going until there’s nothing left of humanity. Nothing worth more than one final flush out the back end of the universe’s black hole.
Let’s start with the fact that we’ve all just run out of money. Perhaps you’ve noticed.
How the hell could the whole world have run out of money? Where’d it go…? I know I’ve been pushing the limit on a credit card or three, but surely this can’t all be MY fault. The money must be somewhere. I know it’s not hidden behind the Chinese toys at Wal-Mart. Sure as hell, SOMEONE took it.
And while the greedy are gouging their piece of flesh – OUR flesh – we stand by and let it happen. As fast as we can whip out our credit cards, we’ve morphed the ME Generation into the I Got Mine so Screw You Generation.
I never cared if The Suits wanted to worship Mammon on their own time. But time’s up, worship’s over and they’re passing the plate to me.
Bad enough that bankers grab personal millions as their public empires crumble. Billionaires con ordinary folks into buying sporting fields, then charge entry fees no ordinary folks could pay. And so-called “movie stars” snatch million-dollar paychecks out of unwatchable films.
Instead of complaints, the studios raise box-office rates to cover the tab,. Do we stay home in protest? Hell no. We rush the line to drop five bucks for a dime bag of popcorn, then douse it with hydrogenated fat and orange-colored food dye (no doubt imported from China where it’s cheaper to buy).
Why aren’t we up in arms, leaning out windows, screaming our fury and pledging not to take it anymore? Apparently our souls have grown as empty as our pocketbooks. Like these wealthy failures before us, our wish seems to be to get OURS, before anyone notices that everything has become a giant Ponzi scheme. And we all, arms linked, rush into oblivion.
Have we really become them…?
Even as we’re all being flushed headlong toward dark ends, villains abound, hiding their intentions behind movie magic and hype. Bernie Madoff. The lads and ladies of Wisteria Lane. And an endless parade of film producers trying to stay ahead of the broker, the banker and their mortgage holder.
When things get too tough for them, too scary, do they ever do the right thing? Do they look out for the people who help them do their work…? Not in these times. They just grab their profits and devour their young. They think they can avoid the black hole they’re facing by hiding behind whoever may be standing next in line.
Here’s a recent post.
Come join the fun and make a movie! Long hours on a relaxed set. Experience required. This is an important new film by an award-winning filmmaker. No pay.
Wal-Mart may pay less than morally right, but some filmmakers skip the morals entirely and troll for unpaid workers.
Normal people in normal times might be ashamed to con little green newbies into investing their only real assets – their talent and hard work – to support someone else’s FUN. Funny, no one ever mentions profit-sharing.
I called and asked. It turns out that this particular film is “important” because the producer-director-writer-cinematographer-editor said so. She has high hopes of a film festival screening. Last year’s film won an award. To prove it, she shows me her certificate, in genuine simulated parchment, suitable for framing.
Even as we’re all getting sucked into the black hole, we’ve become the pit. Even as some giant maw is devouring us, we are turning around and devouring our young.
Will these times ever end …?
Every time another check bounces, every time another filmmaker is conned into carrying the load for someone else’s project, every time a professional is forced to squeeze two days of work into one (then settle for a half-day’s pay for the effort), the event sits on the horizon mocking us as we move closer to oblivion.
I can only hope these times will end before they end us.
