Lazy, Fat, Entitled, Obnoxious: The Age of Abundance
There they were, now, heralding the AI revolution, while the AIs themselves were currently predicting a 50% chance of human extinction through the development of AI. And the beginning of wars. And Elon Musk spruiking The Age of Abundance, when no one would have to work.
But look at what happened to people who didn't have to work, as was easy to observe thanks to Australia's ridiculously generous welfare system, where the entire society became not a striving for the top or even a striving to survive, but a dive to the bottom, to procure the holy grails of welfare, the carer's pension, the disability pension. The entire system a black hole into which the working pour poured their billions, acres of fat cat bureaucrats made life difficult for ordinary people, and nobody got out of bed if they didn't have to.
He had made the joke, the quip, the observation, whatever it was, the so-called working class, the working class that never worked, sat on their couches and watched television and grew fatter and more depressed by the day, their only exercise for the day the walk from the couch to the front door to collect a delivery from a fast food outlet, or to greet their neighbourhood drug dealer.
Societies and communities that are united, hard working, proud, don't have drug problems. The situation we had in Australia was the exact opposite, and time and again, person after person, these people splattering like bugs on a windscreen, splattering against the fates and difficulties life threw up, with nothing, zilch, nihix, nothing, not one word of encouragement for those who strived from this atrocious, truly appalling government.
Everything had a consequence. The ceaseless talk about the the indigenous meant everybody else's story was unrecognised, unappreciated, uncelebrated, unrewarded. And people felt it. They knew they weren't valued. They knew they were just taxpayers in the machine. They knew the overlords couldn't care less whether they lived or died.
All, or at least almost all, the local craft beer manufacturers were going to the wall one after another. A society that did not value its own, which treated its citizens with such contempt, could not survive, and would ultimately go the way of every other civilisation. Already the cracks in the wall. Already they were sowing the seeds of their own destruction. And the population, abandoned, knew not where to turn. And Dutton was about to become prime minister. And the wooden would walk. And the stones cry out.
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