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When I was a young man, my father and I would go fishing. He often used the term “bank beaters” to reference the small fish that would hover around the fishing piers searching for food.
Those little bank beaters did not realize that what appeared to be a free banquet would be their demise in the not so distant future. The anglers threw them leftover bait for a selfish reason, not as a humanitarian jester.
It saddens me to watch as so many intelligent, well-meaning men and women take on the attitude of the bank beaters.
As I ponder this huge world of ours, and all of the atrocities that occur every second on the second, this term “bank beaters” continues to resonate in my psyche as I regularly pose with frustration this question to my spouse and to anyone who will listen.
Is it me? Is our world a world of bank beaters. Am I the only one who sees this gigantic pendulum swinging back and forth…, back and forth… and back and forth… decapitating the heads of reason, love, care, support, empathy, and sympathy of those who have an uncoerced willingness to seek understanding?
Am I the only one who can hear this loud, frightening gasp of frustration and loss of hope that’s moving at the speed of light, echoing around the world?
Unfortunately, it appears that, as this gasp continues its trek across seas, it is met with an eerie silence from the bank beaters.
Am I the only one who observes the panic as it sets upon the bank beaters as they open their doors to invite denial in for a cup of tea while pushing reality out of the back door?
Am I the only one who struggles to understand why the world’s inhabitants maintain a stoic posture with their eyes wide shut… as reality mindlessly sashays, arrogantly spewing vitriol on anyone who dares to acknowledge that they will not accept being a bank beater?
Never mind millions of heads turning to position themselves, scrambling for a better view—methodically and feverously—as their necks appear to stretch to a point of acquiring giraffe like lengths, interlocking one with the other in a confused frenzy of thoughtlessness.
Am I the only one who understands that manipulation comes from fear designed to persuade millions of individuals with multiple intelligences to take a cerebral vacation and embrace being a “bank beater to their own demise?”
Am I the only one who understands that a remix is abound and this remix boldly and conveniently affixes itself right next to the brain’s core, paralyzing millions of individuals possessing multiple intelligences, only to convince themselves that they are not one of the bank beaters?
The self-professed bank beaters uncontrollably roll their eyes as they squint, peep and peer through the smoke and mirrors, while morphing into little round balls existing in a world of make-believe, wearing corrective lenses and staring unintelligent stares.
As the remix continues its assault, the multiple intelligent, violently convulse, fanning the smoke and the fog that accompanies the mirror. Casually, with their eyes wide shut, they massage and swallow the panic, while scrambling at the lake’s edge, waiting for a morsel of sustenance that is intractably reserved for the remixers.
© 2018 Melvin Casey Lars
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Photo credit: Pixabay