1984 for the hell of it

There are two movies that never fail to cheer me up... "Dune" and "1984." You may ask why "1984," a film about a negative utopia where the future of humanity is a boot stamping on a human face forever, brings me such joy. Simple. It's not MY face that's being stamped on forever, that's why.

Let me explain...

Winston Smith was a low-level bureaucrat working for the Ministry of Truth. He knew historical truth, because he re-wrote history every day -- because "He who controls the past, controls the future." He was very much aware that everyone he made a non-person, in the course of his job, ceased to exist, as quickly as yesterday's choco rations. He also realized there was something very wrong with society, and was eventually contacted by O'Brien, an inner-party boss who gave him an advanced copy of the Newspeak Dictionary which also doubled as a guide to the truth of the oligarchical system they all lived in, written by Goldstein, the ultimate, invisible terrorist everyone loved to hate. Winston and his girlfriend were eventually caught by the Thought Police, and brainwashed and tortured at the Ministry of Love until they loved Big Brother -- before they were shot in the back of their bureaucratic heads.

Winston essentially worked for the Mainstream Media. His job was to alter truth and reality for his one-world government masters, much like it is today. But instead of writing a tell-all book, like our low-level bureaucrats do when they get a feather up their asses, the powers that be got rid of him before he made too much trouble. Give it time. Before too long, guys like Carl Bernstein and Greg Palast will be treated the same way, but until then we can count on having a meaningless press feeding us the crap our fearless leaders want us to hear rather than what we need to know by journalist whores owned by guys like Rupert Murdoch.

Winston and everyone he knew were constantly under surveillance, and Thought Police knew what you were thinking. If you thought anything but the party line, it was thought crime, punishable by death.

Except for the proles.

The proles were the unwashed masses who said what they wanted, did what they wanted, and spent time in bars laughing and having as good a time as they could, under the circumstances. The occasional helmeted cop might show up but the proles were basically untouchable because they had superior numbers and were thought of by party members as animals. No doublethink for this crowd. They could give a rat's ass for Big Brother. Any arrest in the prole sector would be met with some heavy resistance or indifference.

I'm a prole -- and that's why a boot stamping on a human face isn't part of my future. There's freedom being a bottom feeder. We don't take large sums of money from government leaders to perform terrorist acts, mostly because no government leader will offer us any. If they did (suckers!), we'd spend it on drinks and girls. We can stand tall before the Big Brother telly screen with one hand on our crotch and the other in the air, extending a single finger in the universal sign for "Fuck you!"

Don't expect a peaceful arrest, as if we're a Winston or a Julia. But DO expect a kick in the balls and a bottle in the face if you try. As proles, we outnumber the police. We outnumber the National Guard. Shit... we outnumber all the standing armies AND world police at 10,000 to 1, and we'll think what we want, and yell it in your face. You bureaucratic PANSIES.

Just a side note... I find it extremely interesting that so many people at the top of the heap either die from heart attacks or attempt suicide, with something as dumb as Valium, just before they go to jail. Is this equivalent to a bullet in the back of the head to reduce the martyr ratio?

If you want to play with the "big boys," like Winston and Julia, best you stock up on Valium and Vasoline.

If you're a prole... PARTY ON, DUDE!