I was shown a picture a week back and I've only just found it again. I'm of the impression that being called "The Man" is a pseudonym for being awesome. Either that or a term used by the paranoid.
So that picture (Click here).
Okay so the name's not quite spelt right (Mrs. Cream - no giving them an alternative wrong spelling. That's just mean.) but it's an incredible likeness to me.
So proof that I'm awesome. (or that people are paranoid of me :/)
Anyway, I was talking to a friend last night. Someone who reads the blog. At one point in the conversation she said to me "I just love how you believe everyone is just going to suddenly turn into a communist". I don't believe that at all. I just think that we need a counter argument to the "Buy this milky futuristic drink and you'll have more go go go!" Or, "Buy this deodorant and beat woman off with a stick". The generic "Buy this and your life will be better!".
The point is, life isn't all about money despite what the ads on the tables at shopping malls tell us or what television and radio spout at us or what the signs on buses, taxis and road side tell us. And even, more to it than what the government seem to want to tell us.
Life is much more complex than that. The money is a token of appreciation. Or it's an ends to a means. It's never just about having money. It's about security or doing something for the people you love (like feeding them).
The bit that makes me miserable is the fact that the emphasis is put solely on the money these days. That's not what it's about. I don't work because I want money - I get validation from work. There's a pay off for me.
And because of this emphasis on money, it often confuses the matter. Newspapers looking for other ways of exciting people because their income stream is on the decline. Telecom moaning because their profits are down from last year (though they're still making phenomenal profits). Government departments which can't seem to figure out if they're supposed to be helping people or just being ... difficult.
So today I received a mysterious red envelop. Okay - so not that mysterious. It was still made of paper and had bits glued down. The mysterious bit was what it was lacking. A note. Any indication of who it had come from. Hopes ran high as I realised it was Valentine's day just yesterday. And a red envelope. It'd be nice to receive something for valentines. Just once.
Anyway, so I got an envelope, opened it and discovered something green. A little bit of money.
So without knowing who it's from, I found myself wanting to do something really truly horrible and cheesy in exchange. A poem perhaps?
So I present here a truly awful poem for your ridicule. Remember - you could stop reading if you don't like pain. It's funny how terrible a thing I can do in about half an hour.
Ode to my Benefactor
(A truly terrible "poem" for a truly awesome act)
Call me Pip (or Phillip if infant tongues can pronounce such),
Whose obligations or expectations from presumptuous mistakes form,
Are you a Miss Haversham?
Crazed intent mistaken,
Tool's heart forged in ice.
Or are you more Magwitch?
Haunted by kindness,
After cruel intent.
An ending uncertain -
Shadows that do not part,
or suffering stronger than Havisham's teachings.
Both seem apt.
Money that comes from mysterious sources,
is ever overspent.