Poking the Bear

I call it poking the bear. Keep at it, just keep it up long enough till the bear reacts. Then blame the bear.

Oh, you may not poke but you will damn sure watch. You have to see what happens…played out on every screen…repeated until memorized.

Innocently watching, secretly cheering. Just a spectator…

Why! Oh! why do these things happen?!? asks the microphone shoved into the face of shock and fear. More concerned with hearing the grief stricken response than waiting for a more appropriate time. Can’t stop filming long enough to be human, that’s not the job. Show every last detail while it’s still fresh all the while knowing the shelf life has already expired

The impact never lasts long for those watching from afar. Boredom sets in immediately after the feast. Comfortable and numb staring at a screen, big or small…waiting…do something…entertain me. Someone go poke a bear.

The hunt for the next “thing” becomes almost robotic…scrolling…surfing…searching.

What is it, this intangible thing that innocent souls cry for? The thing that comes and makes “it” all better? Why hasn’t “it” arrived? What else needs to happen? Who will be first to see and tell us all about “it”?

The cries grow louder demanding change yet the screens stay on. The seats stay filled. The spectacle no longer confined to the Coliseum. The world is the stage and we are watching from every angle, commenting, reviewing, waiting…

Who next will enter for our entertainment!?!

Thumbs up or down?

Who is next to poke the bear?


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