Slaughter Upon Snake Oil Salesmen

I'm going to kill my TV. You can't stop me. Mr. Memorex is considered a hostage. De-wiring to occur upon first offense.  He has become a snake oil salesman, a purveyor of doubt and ignorance, an avalanche of noise and unspecified chaotic energy and NOISE into my goddamned sacred space.

At the right moment, the TV will be removed.

I expect he will leave some residual anxiety in his wake.  His exit will be an occasion.  The furniture arranged around his empty spot, the expectation and the void.  I will curl up in a corner, rocking back and forth unable to quench my anxiety with mind numb any longer.  I will have to have an output to fill his.   I do not think I will install a screen in my mouth and learn to conjure images to dance across the glass. I will write more, I will sew more, take more walks and I will make jewelry and read books and cook and play with my cats and read plays.  I think.  Perhaps I will take to rocking back and forth in the corner and become an expert in that.

Beware the TV.  Beware what you think is normal.  Beware relaxation.  The snake oil salesman has sold you his version, but there are other versions available.  The information is out there, but the purveyors do not exist in the center of the most convenient wall in your living room.  Most abundantly they occur in a very foreign land called your own damn head.  Passports are available.  Visas. Student visas. Green cards.  Permanent alien residency.  The catch is you have to get to know yourself in order to get the paper work.  No mind numb allowed. 

Pain occurs when tension is released from the body.  Emotions are information with logical next steps.  We feel for reasons.  Reasons we bury in the foreign land while we listen to the snake oil salesmen, not just Mr. Memorex, there are many many out there.  We know what to do when we are in control, but we have given up control, and our emotions stop us, stutter us, confuse us, rather than direct us toward the right course of action. 

Slaughter the snake oil salesmen without pulses.  Save the human ones.