Once upon a time there was a very old story. In this story a lumbering giant towered over everyone else, taunting them daily. Even the strongest and most skilled of other men dared not face the giant due to the reenforced humiliation of anyone who thought they could best the giant. He was merciless and surely his size might block out the sun. His arms hung like oak trees time had long forgotten. His bolder like fists had smashed all contendors until a tiny boy stood in his shadow and glared up at him. Sure it looked so insane that even the giant laughed. Of course, everyone else under the bully's influence always laughs along with them while trembling in fear that their laughter is not loud enought for their self-proclaimed conquerer. Three stones later everyone coughed from the rise of the dust and the thud of what towered before well over them. Pardon my paraphrase; but you get the idea.
There are certainly many million-dollar companies that tower over we little people, whether it's entertainment, insurance, financial or housing giants. For many years, they have had their way with us often. We pay premiums almost with a gratitude for the privilidge in exchange for some often false security. When its all said and done, it's about business and business equals profits. I suspect the common man has wised up to the obvious evidence that company loyalties arent what they used to be. In a time when handshakes and eye contact is practically forbidden and easily masquaraded as sincere, folk's first inclination is to mistrust. They've been burned before — and that's before the last time after the time before. Big companies have ruled the landscape of America with iron fists, pummeling its infants who might dare raise their eyes into the sun.
Then came the social medias! It appeared totally geeked-out and harmless at its dawning. But the morning got brighter by the hour and its power has become blinding. I came across this story by accident and it struck a cord with me. Being over forty years old, one has a bit of space to look back over and note change with remember whens. I particularly noted this line,
You don’t get to play by the old rules any more, and it doesn’t matter what business you’re in. You don’t get the old privilege of anonymity. You don’t get to bury your story on page 47.
There is no more page 47. Every story is somebody’s page 1. more...
Perhaps normal man has found his/her superhuman strength pill. Perhaps we can all become supermen and women. Perhaps we can truely make a difference as a single voice in the face of giants. On the other hand, if we're all the same, will we not be back in the same boat? Does the revolutionary not always live long enough to become tomorrow's dictator? The power of the circle cycle is overwhelming. In fact, it's odd how normal it stays; but always with the promise of change.