“That noxiously malignant noise that emanates endlessly from the electronic window reminds me of nothing so much as the commercial implementation of something that replaces the dreaming which surely happens as we are developing in the womb. Yet that dreaming is the very source of minds, and its waking-world replacement is and must remain their silencing. For it comes not from nature, but from her cruel distortion. A distortion in which the mother of being is reduced to the lurid representation of function. A distortion in which the sacred invitation to life is revised, and emerges as a pseudo-hypnotic invitation to become the victim of processes as hideous as they are vampiric.

In the womb, we dream of life. In life, the television becomes an invitation to a world too flat and abstract to be habitable. There are no human beings in that world, and there never were. What speaks to you from the box is, approximately, the shadow of possible identity.

The shadow of the world becomes the word, and the shadow of the word becomes the shining window of death by reduction to compliance with or resistance to what comes through our electrical rectangles.

How have become so confused that we enthusiastically sacrifice each other to little windows through which our failures to become human together are re-rendered as victory, nobility, beauty, courage, and even wisdom?

Reject the windows. Slip the frame. Unbind the wings with which the gift of your mother’s womb endowed you. Wake up, child of skies. Destiny is calling your name on a channel inside you. Wake up. Cast off the yoke that masquerades as a necessity. Discover once more what the great urgency and noise of our cultures is organized to obscure. Recover the signal. The content will give you a mind unlike anything your cultures can allow, let alone foment.”

— an anonymous informant