Entangled

Part 3

3.

Bucharest, Romania 10:30

I was working on an article when a creepy KFC ad in a KFC joint hit my eyes. "Withage you don't get that many..perspectives. Get a real job at KFC"

What a wonderful way to put it.You re future is over. You will die alone and poor. You will not even have the privilege or chance to slave away in a cubicle. It's over. Come here and flip some chicken. In the end, we own you. In the end you belong to us. This is where elephants come to die. This is where youll eventually burn up. Inside the belly of the monster. They are all mosters. And they re swallowing up, one by one. Littl eslaves, slaving away. Sweat shop hens and chickens. That's why its important to fuck with them, as soon and as often as possible.

You work in a bank, a multinational corp? fuck with them. You re ngligible. So pretend you are the most loyal. On the other hand burn them down. The huge ugly beastly monsters. Don't feel sorry for the Seo and execs. Feel sorry for the fucking kid in china, or bangladesh that has been born, is living and may die in a sweatshop.

I thought a lot about this. How tocounterattack. How to mess with them. The slimey who gave me my last gig.

I logged in one day on his damn newspaper. I turned into the biggest fan, the most horrific person in the world, the master of the commentary section. If anyobdy disagreeed with me, a ton of "bigot, fascist, sexist, racist, capitalist" would flow towards him". After writing a query and sending one article they caved in. So who cares I've never been to Russia. Who cares I'm not go even close to Donbass. I tell them what they want. But sometimes, sometimes, just like Tyler Durden at the family cine, Isqueeze alittle bit of my own. Getting the word out there. It's important. If you cant get youw ill and fist, at least get your word out.

This girl in front of me, packing whatever shit I decided eating. She smiles, so benevolent, so affable, so ready to serve, her crispy strips, warren bucket, maxi micro menu.

But the thing is, when her shift is over, she is gona go home, she is gonna take a shower, digg through the fridge, jump to bed. Her failure of a man will pump up a few times. She'll go was again. Then.. she'll turn on the big screen, the big fucking talking screen, everyone bows down to once in a while. She'll get a beer from the fridge and start swallowing insane amount of garbage. Aftwerwards she ll pick up a magazine, the kinds that tell them that should like Gisele Bundchen or some other bitch, that the way she is is making her unattractive. She ll start reading that shit, she'll look at her gut and then will browse some advice on how to make her more desribale to other men, how she has to get her legs wideopen and invite the whole fucking world to theparty, how to play and engage in mind games with her husband. Fuck em up up, fuck them up until there is nothing to fuck. And the big screen will be there, and they'll grin and when they re done, she s gonna lie down and burn.

And this is what we have to accept. And we are not supposed to burn the shit up. We are supposed to be entertained, obedient, one hand in the fridge, one on th elaptop shopping to numb the pain, to fill her emptyness. A big screen will be eating her mind, the computer screen will be eating at his heart, splicing body parts into his mind, both separated secluded. Him wiping away, shamefully drifting to sleep, her, wiping her tears, regrets of an almost failed life. This is life of most, swallowed by the tv screen, sabotaged by talking heads, doing nothing, improving nothing, sapping away at their sanity.

So you take all this, and you add the soul munching job at KFC, in an american colony, somehwer south of the Carpathians. You get the woman in front of me. You get everyone around me. You get everyone in the same situation whteher they are from London or Los Angeles, or Moscow. Mopped away from sanity, every minute of their life.