No Bag Nation

As the poverty gap grew companies became more inclined to adopt no bag policies. The simple assumption that some or all customers are little more than potential shoplifters grew into something far more grotesque. It didn’t matter that customers were the ones giving money to the major corporations. There was no need to treat them with civility because they had no were else to go. A few corporations purchased the government, thus sealing the fate of the consumer. In no time at all the poverty gap created two castes rather than classes. The inmate/consumer class and the corporate/government class. Liberty is never as profitable as outright exploitation. It was far easier to make money when the workers were the consumers and the work was mandatory. It really wasn’t so far a jump. That’s the funny part. People were already working for huge conglomerates as sort of indentured servants, too poor to get out regardless of treatment or desires. Running the nation like a true prison just simplified the existing system by margin or two.

On a serious note. There is a tendency toward fascism in a number of common corporate polices. (Many corporations are more wealthy than entire nation states)

No bag policies. These literally prematurely criminalize consumers. Whether these policies target certain groups or everyone they assume the worst about people. More importantly, by having a no bag policy companies treat their own customers worse than the police are constitutionally allowed to. Confiscating personal property is seriously offensive and is only necessary when safety is at stake. Lastly, if someone is serious about shop lifting (often under camera surveillance) they will find a way to do it without their bag. Besides, most places with no bag policies don’t have a safe place to temporarily store confiscated items. Why should a company’s customers trust the company with their stuff if the company doesn’t even trust them to shop honestly?

Copyright crusades. When studios go on copyright rampages against their own fans they do themselves harm. The people who do the work for movies and for music make most of their money from box office sales anyway. As long as large studios continue to make theatre experience events that cannot be easily recreated they don’t have anything to worry about. artists have been making more money over the last decade and movie studios have made record profits these last few years. The people who do the most pirating of movies and music are either those who can’t afford it or those who purchase far more of it that the average consumer. Neither of these groups are worth hunting down and prosecuting.

If you find yourself running a huge company please don’t over police everyone. Put a little less police in your policy. If you are a consumer please speak up when you feel that you or others are being treated like criminals rather than customers.

Have a nice day.

Complicated Dreams

It is funny how emotions and situations that are so complex and so intense can be so perfectly captured in a dream.

I am a male. I feel more comfortable around women than men. I am more attracted to women than men. I identify more closely with my female friends than I do with my male friends, even though I enjoy a good cyber battle now and again with guys.

Nudity. Sexuality. This is the area where things get tricky. In the dream I am in a corporate shower in a woman’s body with an intimate friend of mine and fellow female feminists. There is sexual tension between many people but also a sense of trust and camaraderie. I am enjoying myself and I feel comfortable and excited and something else bordering fear and arousal. In my heart I believe that I am a fraud. I don’t belong. If I am discovered for what I really am I will be despised, hated, loathed, humiliated. I am at once included in the ultimate feminist club as I have always wanted and at the same time distanced from it as always due to what at times like these can only be considered male handicap.

My friend does a very good job of including me. My awkwardness is taken as shyness at being new. Nobody suspects that it is the fear of a combatant being discovered in an enemy camp. What sort of punishment might await me if I am found out I can’t help but wonder.

Eventually the time comes. All is bound to be discovered. My friend and I are alone in the shower. She is sharing a plan with me of how things might work out. She is showing me a bizarre contraption which would allow me to remain in the shower but separate from everyone else. Separate but equal I suppose in retrospect. I see the word masturbation next to the picture of the fence like contraption. The thought of masturbating in a little box while the women shower fills me with depression. I feel rejection for the idea because it grinds against my sense of feminism and social comfort, but I also sense that such an experience could in fact be arousing. Masturbating in a room full of attractive feminists might be nice if it didn’t seem so wrong and so strange.

As I am trapped in my sad and sorry sensations the other women arrive. I am exposed and I have a penis once again. Things often make sense emotionally in dreams without having to make logical sense. The dream ends at around this time. These last few moments blend together scorched into my heart. The women both ignore me and see me. Perhaps they feel pity and disgust for me. I am not really sure. In any case, I no longer belong. I am no longer one of them. I’m not sure whether my friend decides to comfort me or leave me to join the others. I fade away.