Friday, June 21, 2019

Some kind of brutal

Years and years, a tale told on the BBC, set in a futuristic yesterday (there will be an alternative version played out via Question Time or something to redress the balance): The scene where the old granny has a colourful rant directed at her family but meant for everyone. "It's all your fault, you let it happen. When they introduced the automatic tills at the supermarket, you moaned, you didn't like it but you just got on with it and used them. Then there were no cashiers, they were paid off, more jobs gone..."

We moan a little, we grimace, perhaps we lose sleep, perhaps we think we see the point. We have some sympathy for the devil, whatever the form he takes. Business has to succeed (?), that's why they cut costs (staff), it's all for the common good. Maybe not. There's a relentless direction of travel here. A corruption, a subtle knife, an unspoken shift, a rot and a plague and worst of all a dumb and a stubborn self induced blindness. People don't really matter all that much...

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