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Doll Leg

Death is Cheaper

Life.

Broadly considered, and widely taught, to be one of the most, if not, THE most sacred and precious of things.

Imagine such a single, human life.

Think of all the myriad things making up that life.

An awareness of living and of others around them who appear to be experiencing the same thing: Consciousness.

A consciousness shaped and tempered over time by joy and sadness, love and hate, needs and wants, intimacy and loneliness, calmness, anxiety, knowledge, ignorance… belief and prejudice.

All this creating a singular character housed in a singular, intricate, complex vehicle of flesh, bone and blood.

All those accumulated years, months, days, hours, seconds of uniquely perceived experiences.

This is why persons are often referred to as ‘individuals’.

Each person we see or interact with in our daily life has, one can assume, never existed before – nor ever will again.

Now, here’s a thought:

How about, the next time you stroll down the street and encounter a stranger, pick up the nearest heavy object and smash them in the back of the head with it. When they fall over, keep hitting that head until all that remains is a torso, twitching arms and legs and about five kilograms of mince and bone in a spreading lake of blood.

Now, my stomach turned at even composing that last part.

I imagine (and hope!) that the reader was shocked, shaken and/or horrified, too.

How much more shocking, then, is the fact that brutal endings of innumerable, unique people occur in an appalling variety of ways across the world every day.

And the majority of these existences are snuffed out on the whims of other individuals to whom hundreds of thousands of other individuals slavishly bow their heads in awe and worship every few years.

These ‘leaders’, however, are, in turn, nothing more than ‘whack-a-mole’ heads, popping up in sequence, spouting trite justifications for mass-murder. And also to give the ‘plebs’ someone to hit out at when the same, predictable an inevitable shit-scripts happen yet again.

Confront any world leader with the personal, up-close realities of their abhorrent wars and you will rarely, if ever, hear a response that is not along the lines of:

“Of course I hate war. It’s a terrible thing. But we need to make hard decisions to protect our people/values/borders, etc…”

Let’s be clear:

Those who initiate war have absolutely no regard for any ‘people’ – neither that particular week’s ‘enemy’, the eviscerated innocent bystander nor the professional killers they employ, (only to cast aside when they are broken by the experience).   

They don’t squeeze the trigger and end those ‘sacred and most precious of things’ who never existed before, nor ever will again, over an over gain until silence falls.

They don’t walk the rubble, stepping over unidentifiable, bloody chunks with scraps of fabric attached, getting red clay stuck to their boots.

They don’t smell the peculiar mix of cordite, wood fire, barbecue, sewage and abattoir.

They don’t look at the ingrained dirt in their clothes and skin at the end of the day and wonder how much of it is the granular remains of another, unique human being.

They don’t feel the shaking.

They don’t hear the stifled sobbing – often more poignant than the screaming and wailing.

And they don’t give a flying fuck about “The babies… the beautiful babies” except as a politically useful rallying cry to send other people to go kill more babies.

As anyone even slightly awake knows, these ‘hard decisions’ they talk about are, of course, not made by the political glove puppets, themselves, but by those the puppet owes its privileged position to; those who truly have the power to collapse or build – those who have woven their tendrils deep into the very foundation stones of entire societies to the point where a simple casual contraction can make or break individuals, rival businesses and, by extension, entire countries.

All the countries their axe hangs over are used to crush any other nation with the audacity to seek to built foundations free of their corrupting influence.

And crush, they do. Ending or scarring countless more lives in the process.

Imagine those lives.

Or, imagine even a single, human life.

Then ask me why I believe we, as a species, are doomed to something worse than extinction.

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