"Day of Atonement"
"GoFundMe was asking for a “tip” on the money I had just donated. It had defaulted to 15% though there were windows for 10%, 20% and Other. For a brief moment, I set aside my grief and marveled at the presentation on the screen. Everything was just right – font size, font color, layout, design and lack of clear instructions. These guys are pro’s I thought and then the magnitude of what I just did washed over me and I broke down.
Two hours prior, I was contacted by one of my childhood friends who wanted to let me know that a member of our High School clique was on her deathbed – let's call her Cindy. Though we were close growing up, I had not had any contact with Cindy since graduation. See, growing up in the Rust Belt didn’t leave guys like me with many options other than to pick which branch of service we’d like. As for me, I chose the Army and just like that, we were scattered all over the world and I lost track of her. I lost track of everyone.
I should have found her sooner but I’m in that generation that grew up before the internet and home computers. That said, people look a lot different at 54 than they do at 18 and that women change their name when they get married can make them that much more difficult to find. Frankly, I could have taken a 12 hour flight with her in the seat next to me and it never would have occurred to me that my travel companion was Cindy from high school. Things change.
It was explained to me that Cindy’s teenage daughter was taking care of the Facebook page so I sent my old friend a “friend request” so that I could send a letter to be read to her by her daughter. Before I did that, though, I wished to have a look at her profile so I could better understand how this turn of events had occurred. What I saw was an obese, ailing, divorced single mom that adored her children. She had remained trapped in the Rustbelt and so far as I could tell, had spent the last 11 years (the age of her profile) fighting various illnesses to include cancer which made sense given her weight.
Though she had posted hundreds of photos, few were of her and I took this to mean that she felt self conscious about her appearance. It must have troubled her. It was then that I thought about all the multi-national corporations that I have worked for that push junk food on to the public. I helped them market to the masses using every trick at my disposal – binaural beats, subliminal messaging, back masking, triggers, whispers – you name it, I did it and did it very very well.
Next, I could see that she had fallen into the clutches of the Medical Industrial Complex and again I felt guilty. I’ve worked for every single one of the current mRNA “vaccine” makers as well as a lot of pharmaceutical companies you’ve probably never heard of. Without exception, every single board member I ever came into contact with was a sociopath that would murder their own grandmother with an ice-pick if they thought it would make them a penny. These are some heartless, terrifying individuals. Making you sick and keeping you sick is their #1 goal and they certainly do not even bother to try and hide it.
Now we get to the worst part – poverty. I won’t bore you with the list but I’ve worked for every bank you can name. I helped them convince people to buy homes they could not afford, take on debt that could not be paid back and accept terms and conditions that would have made 13th Century peasants revolt. I did that. I did it for a paycheck.
The very last post I saw was an image of Cindy and her daughter with a request for donations so that the still alive Cindy could be cremated when the time arrives as the family had no resources for the funeral. The banks had done an excellent job – she had nothing left and it was on Facebook for all to see. She had been strip-mined of everything to include her dignity.
I followed the link over to the GoFundMe page and made my donation and that is when I saw the request for the “tip” and I could see it plain as day – the working group, the psychologists, strategy and marketing, layout and design, presentations to the board – all set up so that I’d leave a “tip” on the money I had just donated to incinerate Cindy. It was then that I broke down.
I always told myself that the public was “smart enough” to see through all of our clever marketing and that we were just adding “art” to liven up something boring like Teaser Loans, Diabetes and Investment Strategies but I was wrong. The art had a call to action and that call to action was never in the person’s best interests. In the end, I will choose to remember Cindy as a healthy, attractive, vivacious young lady full of hopes and dreams and I will never again offer my services to the sociopaths that prey upon small town girls in fly-over land."
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