The sheepification of our children. From a guest post by Eric Peters at theburningplatform.com:
Have you been caught behind a school bus recently?
They are hard to miss – and not because they’re really big and very yellow. In my area – and probably yours, too – they also have constantly flashing white strobe lights on the roof.
Apparently, there are people out there who miss the big and the yellow.
It will probably not be long before a man runs – or rather, fast walks – in front of the things, waving a red flag. Perhaps they will have him set out a bunch of orange cones around the perimeter of the bus at each stop, too, before the passengers are allowed to disembark.
Which, by the way, they are not allowed to do until the bus has stopped exactly next to the driveway of each passenger. Even if the next kid’s house is 20 yards away, that kid is not allowed to get off and walk the 20 yards to his house. He must sit and wait while the driver goes through the kabuki opera of stopping (then waiting for a moment to make sure the bus is actually, certainly and for-sure stopped) extending those Stop sign flappers that extend from the flanks with the red flashing lights (syncopating with the white strobes on the roof) and only then opening the door and waiting some more for the process of his next-door neighbor to get off the bus, the doors to close, the flappers to fold flush against the flanks and the bus to creep forward the 20 yards to his house, where the show is repeated.
What a depressing, strangulating, suffocating, tedious ordeal.
For the kids, I mean.
But it is an excellent prep school for their intended future role as good (compliant, submissive) show-no-initiative adults. The type of ant-human needed for the ant hill that America has become.
There is always a method to that which is perceived as madness.
When it comes to government – which, never forget, is nothing more than a small minority of your fellow citizens who have got hold of the power to make you do what they say – there is always a reason for that which seems bizarre to you.
Control, for its own sake.
Well, for their sake.
To continue reading: The Object of the Exercise
