Friday September 9th 2011    Tim Candler

   Often better to understand an issue by imagining a structure upon which opinion can be hung.  However, the structure imagined should not be pulled from the air, which I suppose is why sociologists decide they are scientists, and those who write books care more for audience.

   And it's the way a person speaks.  His vowels and his understandings are upon his tongue as certainly as the color of his skin.  The kind of shoes he wears, the label on his shirt, the vehicle he drives and on it goes into an industrial delight of expectation.  But there is a reason why some like "The Help" and it's movie, while others cringe from it or turn red from shame or rage.  It's the "Upstairs, Downstairs" of 2011, a year chock full of a yearning and probably an anger, both of which stifle imagination leaving us fearful and prone to the simpler side of memory and cinema.

     Believe it or not, people are mostly content in their class.  It provides a sense of unity in being. A congress through which the existence of aliens or the rich or the poor or the self  might be explained.  We prefer to gather amongst our own kind, if we can still find them, to feel strong or worthy or useful or whatever collective might offer purpose and future.  And wouldn't it be rosy if we all trusted our station, like faithful men of gold.

     Fewer, are not so content to see the their world as written, they see their being as actually belonging elsewhere.  To a dream perhaps, or to a greed, or to a wish, or to an emotion that satisfies. They are the entrepreneur in his garage, and not all of them republican boy scouts. They are unhappy with diamonds and holidays in Cancun, or seven dollars an hour and no color TV, or cold winter and no food at all.  And wouldn't it be rosy if Fairies ate Stink Bugs and other such structures.  

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