Who’s the puppet?
“You’re the puppet.” “No, you’re the puppet.” (third presidential debate, 2016). Called a surreal moment, and a childish moment, I’m wondering if it was one of the more truthful moments. Will anyone who is not a puppet please stand up?
Consider the meaning of apocalypse as an unveiling. I’ve been riveted to the unfolding election drama, and there are times when it seems we are being offered a glimpse behind the curtain, if we’re agile enough to perceive it, no small feat, given the heated emotions and dueling perspectives. Sometimes it’s Matrix-like, a sudden glitch, a gap, a split second before the world re-assembles itself into the chaos we have become acclimatized to.
I’m not talking about the more blatant issues of misogyny, racism, xenophobia, and narcissistic personality disorder. I’m talking about the more subtle questions of what kind of perceptions and belief systems make puppets of each of us: Puppets dancing with variations on the strings, and the tune.