The lights are on
A gawker is that
slack-jawed kid in dire need of a belt and a good shower who never gets your
fast food order right because they go and stick their hand in the deep fryer
and their foot in their mouth whenever a girl in too-tight jeans comes
strolling in. Gawkers are dunces, poltroons, all-around blathering idiots who
only know how to serve cheap steaming greasy garbage to their customers, all
the while unable to restrain their most base urges and limitless stupidity.
Now imagine Gawkers being
the face of the popular media in a society.
We have met the enemy, and the enemy is us.
is a season for kindness and goodwill towards men. Yet amongst the
maddening crowds and the dazzling lights, wandering the maze-like malls
adrift on a sea of humanity one can feel a sense of loneliness and
longing. The reason for the season forgotten in avalanche of advertising
and unchecked commercialism.
Yet don't forget the reason for the season, and who we are as gamers.