Typical accommodations of our Reporters (undated file photo)
The story, according to unnamed
sources, cannot be told about without compromising government
security. This story revolves around certain countries and a number
of people. The exact times and events that transpired cannot be
legally exposed, and your Orange-Roof Journalist here would never go
against the dictates of security in our glorious state. We can say
this much: something happened somewhere, and as a Journalist it is
imperative that a free people know that at this unknown place,
some human being(s), who shall be kept unidentified, did some
unspecified acts in some sort of referential time frame. The Orange
roof reporter here is bound by secrecy to not say whether this
imbroglio is shocking, uplifting or merely skak, though we can
definitely report that it occurred. It is probably a single time
instance of the thing, although, most readers should leave open the
possibility that it may be an evolving situation. If legally allowed, your
Orange Roof Reporter will keep you abreast of the changing situation,
if it is indeed changing, or if there is some resolve to the problem,
if, indeed, it is a problem, which I am limited to reporting
specifically on, for reasons that I will leave the reader to
speculate. All we can say about this story for now is stay tuned.
Bad gramer, is you're nemeses. Making
sense in the present tense needs to accomplished if you want you're
audience impressing. Does it fit you're topic? Writing a book, or a
pargraph, or a sentence needs the syntact to fit the essence of the
idea. Otherwise your juggling wine bottles and fresh ham. Use the
mind to divine the comma not the mind to divine the comma. Forget a
narrator if you are talking in the first person, I am, the narrator.
I be narration. See, it is simple to write affective prose when all
the cylinders, metaphorically, click like a drum. Lt's take a look
at this sentence; Punctuation is your frenemy. Is it an interesting
addendum to the discussion of good gramer, or is it annoying
distraction. You are the judge * You are the Jury. All roads lead to
Venice should be your Mantra. Verbs do not care. Carry that with you,
run with it and remember it. Nouns know better than adjectives what
the succinctly ordinate roundish glimmering jibe means. As Samuel
Clemens once said, “It ain't you Huck, it's me.”
The paragraph walked out the door.
Flash, boom bang. Be the vowels. Public speaking can a very stress
inducing experience, and the prepared writer will pepper-spray the
audience with amusing anecdotes of the time they missed the bus going
to Albany. Just keep at it and the pieces will fall into place and
you can leave the listener under the spell of your ideas being
literally transcendent of the moment and relieving, for a moment
perhaps, the inconsequential pain and worry of thumbing to Albany.
While technically accurate, putting the
pen to paper can be daunting, at best. Allowing the willow to
somberly wave in the breeze prepares your audience for the next
stanza. Good gramer is always your best bet, especially if the ideas
are ridiculous..
The movie opens with fear. Check and
mate. If you want misunderstanding, mis-communication and extreme
behavior, use fear. Then we see the fly on the wall. The jungian
archetype of the unconscious, just below the surface, everyone
projecting their shadow on their neighbor, listening to them as a fly
on the wall to find the place to project their own iniquities, and
thereby bolster their own self-righteous pride, just as their
Big-Brother government does to them. The person to whom this shadow
is projected to upon in the movie is Sam Lowry. Apparently he has
been having prescient dreams about his female soul-mate, Jill Layton.
Where the male and female archetypes need to be disambiguated,
removing any mystery from their roles in society, any conflict in the
official role of male female is immediately ferreted out through the
collective unconscious of the masses, and is actively programmed
subliminally into the minds of the populace through mind control in
the ubiquitous TV programming to mete this metaphysical “here's
looking at you kid” effect. The only terrorist (besides the State's
real terrorism) in the movie, is Sam, for his dreams of love, a
passion beyond control of the master brainwashers. The levers of
state actually bring these two together, which for the rest of the
movie the state seeks to clean the slate of this off-script love
affair. The fantasy simulacra is the only thing important, and the
main folly is emotional concern for your fellow man, which would
otherwise effectively turn the tables on the power of the noxious and
arrogant government's avarice. All the stupid tubes and ducts are the
feminization of society, helping central planning have bestial
domination over needless dross society. The Deniro, Heat Engineer,
Tuttle, is wanted, whose only crime is being a free lance worker,
outside of the Government patronized Central Services union, and
mistakenly executed for by Buttle. The Union wants Tuttle, the
backdoor lover, dead, and, working hand-in-hand with the State, seek
to monopolize their agency goods and services. Competition is the
death knell for the greedy corporatist state, and sets the stage for
everything else in the movie. Sam's narcissistic mother, as the evil
genius elitist controlling everything (watch restaurant bombing scene
closely), helps him get captured through her feared power, in the
strangest of jealousy twists, neatly packaged into the Hamlet-like
power schemes of the fake society. The state/religious theme is
ubiquitous through the Christmastime setting: The Buttle mother
talking to her daughter about Santa coming down the chimney, enter
the militarized police to play Santa-Satan; Jill being the present to
Sam in the end, enter the militarized police to play Santa-Satan.
Sams happiness is going to be sacrificed, so the phony God state can
continue, and he is morphed back into the fly of society, a chemical
liver spot of his mother, in the re-birth of the evil saviour of
youthful plastic surgery. Jill, a rival to the societal collectivism
of a false idol of easily willed over childhood, is the existential
letter change of fate. Having killed Jill twice, once on paper and
once defending her, Sam smiles in the end because he is alive and
driven insane as the central protagonist in the dystopian play, and
Jill is in his mind, as in his dreams, the driver. His tiny mote of
irresponsibility to austere state motives cost him his sanity. But
hey, at least he paid his debt. It is all funny, because it's mostly
true. Naiiiled it!
Notes: The ending sequence, not in the
movie clip, is in french. Seeing the hero go insane is too much for
the tender sensibilities of American audiences.
They skipped a scene involving a
decomposed corpse in the movie here. It is important in the movie as
a foil to the lack of the culture coming to terms with death and
renewal of finding a purpose and worth of life for oneself. (Sam
later slays himself, losing his wings and becoming the hero
antagonist to his exalted place in the society.) Interesting edit,
fortunately I caught the life should be worth losing redaction for
you.
