The True Cost of Freedom: Eternal Noise and a Death Wish…
Noise should be illegal, or at least expensive, charged by the decibel at ever-increasing rates. And this is the true crime of the 21st century, in the latter days of capitalism and consumerism, that not only is there no place to hide, but there is no peace and quiet, either. We go inside and turn on the a/c just to escape the noise at night. How else can you get any sleep on one of the frontage-road motels that line the highways of modern America, that line the stress-filled moments of our minds? Still many people thrive on noise like music to their souls, the more the better, like cheap wine, just to get a buzz, when a buzz is really the last thing we need, since we are far too buzzed already. But the sky is the limit, and people want to get even higher, at the risk of crashing headlong into oblivion. Truly free people know their limits; silly fools think there are none…
hardie karges, 
Yes, I’m talking about that theoretical ghost in each of our machines. So the first time a human being saw his reflection in still water must have been incredible, our hero unbelieving, disbelieving, unsure if what’s he’s seeing is really him, himself, and so now aware of self, for maybe the first time, previously only aware of everything other…
Intent is the elephant in the courtroom of modern justice, beyond forensics and beyond genetics, the need to know what someone was thinking and why they thought it, at such-and-such a time and such-and-such a place. But isn’t this a system doomed to failure? And is it really necessary? 
Though not often heralded as such, language is arguably the world’s greatest invention, and I think that, like most inventions, it might have a limited lifespan of prime utility, and it’s a very arguable point that the world just might be better off without it. I don’t arrive at this conclusion lightly, given that fact that I love language with all my heart and all my soul, but if it’s outlived its usefulness, then it just might need to be put out to pasture (and there just might be something better)…
You know the American dream, the whole world does: two-story house and a two-car garage, two kids in the breakfast nook and the neighbor’s kids coming over later, God’s little acre in a sanctified suburb, full ownership and bulging bank accounts, stay-at-home mom and a rising-star dad, with a bachelor’s degree in business and a lotta’ backyard gossip, Saturday at the zoo and Sunday barbecue, PTA meetings and postman’s daily greetings, fried chicken and crispy F
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