Obsessed with all things frivolous trivial superficial dispensable all the mesmerized-while oblivious to anything approaching essential; cajoled into pledging brand allegiance and accepting and promoting remotely-implanted portrayed-as-home-grown hopes and goals they're trained to suppose they conjured up on their own; unknowingly devoted to self-enslavement their panopticon-monitored data-traced lives imbibed by the all-absorbing matrix their eagerly-offered wants and thoughts reduced to an infinitude of digital drops (that constitute innumerous individual trickles which are channeled in turn into zillions of rivulets that when merged form SurvCap's near-biblical algorithmically filtered flows) reflexively-unquestioning proles — forever open to indebting suggestion — are perpetually Pavlovianly receptive to advertising's beguiling message being as they are victims of common sense amnesia suckled as it were on the toxic teat of mind-warping corporate media with its caustic soul-corroding culture of nonstop commodification; being as they are victims of marketing's ever-darkening march of its ceaseless conscience-free thrust to exploit and if need be construct the types of behavioural patterns and trends most conducive to the smooth application of proven techniques to manipulate humans for unfettered commercialized ends; being as they are victims of that amoral thrust that does whatever it must to reduce them to targets in a game played to harness the science of persuasion in a raging full-on Bernaysian game the aim of which is to simply concoct then ingrain ever-newer consumer habits into the dutifully-pliant robotic flocks that graze in a daze on this Mad Ave planet.
This poem was revised on FEB 17, 2025.
Yes indeed. Happily they stumble entranced to their doom.