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I choose to rebel against the deluge of advertisements around me and the junk mail that gets pushed through my door. The postman knocks with a parcel, but he first hands me a collection of colourful leaflets. “Here’s your junk,“ he says.
Indeed.
So let me take that junk and use it to fuel the fire of my writing. Extra fuel is always welcome when the mundane activities of life make repeated attempts to stifle the flames of creativity.
Let us see what the (m)ad men have to say today.
“Hurry!”
… said every “sale” advert ever. What’s the rush? Oh, the sale is ending soon? Well, let me suspend reason for a moment and rummage for my cash. Actually, do you take credit card? Please take my money before it is too late.
“We’re Here To Help”
Thank goodness. I’ve been looking for somebody to talk to. You see, I have this problem at home. It’s quite a sensitive issue actually. I’m feeling rather down about it. Oh… What’s that? You didn’t mean that kind of help? You only offer help in the context of double glazing. Well, in that case, please take my money.
“Great Price and Great Advice”
Your prices look amazing, fantastic, great! What do you sell? Oh, DIY stuff. That’s fine, I don’t really care. I just care about the prices. And can you give me some advice while I’m at it? Great. Here, please take my money.
“You Have the Power to Set Yourself Free”
Well, this is profound. Thank you for letting me know. How may I tap into this latent power that lies within? I have been trapped in a life devoid of meaning for three decades now I have been waiting for a way to escape. Sorry? It only applies to my broadband contract? Oh, ok. Well, I’m still sold on the whole freedom idea, so please hang on a minute while I set up a bank transfer.
Now, devoid of all funds, I have been hurried into accepting help from various strangers (at a great price) and I have now discovered my inner power to switch broadband contracts.
But, no. It was just a dream. I am still in possession of my mental faculties. The junk will keep on coming, but I am ready. The adverts will still bombard me, but I am prepared. I choose to rebel.
About J M Jackson
Dad first, etc second. Prefers writing about life instead of facing it. Occupied by unruly Nabokovian irritation & irrepressible Kafkaesque positivity. Working on his first novel.
