How much of who we are is shaped by the machinations of the Hologram?
Where can we go to find ourselves, the "me" that is not the "not me" fashioned by the influx? How much worse it must be for those who are co-opted to be the organ of the "thing" itself!
No! No! I am me, myself. Perhaps not. The perspective we assume is an illusion; scissors must be kept close at hand to open the packaging. One notes that the me itself is an illusion, a deeper one, perhaps, than the one we buy, and it belongs to an ancillary arm of the illusion. Fey these arguments over opinions, they were given to us in Morgana's mist.
It might be, that rather than, "I think, therefore I am, it might be more realistic to say we think, therefore I am.--
a quote from an article on Sarah Palin:
"It’s about me running the country.
It’s about me running.
It’s about me."
She too, like Michael was our creation. Our aggregate persona descends upon them, those who seep up from the bubbling mass, and the apparatus reflects who and what they are according to our desires. Is it any wonder that they should seek to escape the glare of not me in some exaggerated gesture of defiance? They are no worse than You or I, but they are magnified, analyzed for the benefit of our own me, in a way they justify, reinforce that which we ourselves have taken to create that which is who I am.
The literature is abundant, from Catullus to Li Po to Mauberly to Warhol, and in between and beyond, and so on. It might be said that in the end we can never form a coherent opinion as the information is faulty, based as it is on a motive which can only be guessed at and never truly known.
Aberrations must be expected. Freedom exists only insofar as we are allowed to extract that which we desire from the Machine, one might call it Mother, as we suck from its breast from birth unto death...
as we all know, even as we kick against the pricks.