Recalling being a teenager, one conversation with my father has stood out to me in particular as of late. Having had a job on and off since starting a paper route at the age of 9 or 10, I was no stranger to working. I was, at the time however, having a hard time finding a job.
Seeing the clothes I was wearing to the interviews, my father proceeded to lecture me on what constitutes appropriate interview attire. Being young and impetuous, I already knew what he was going to say and had my argument (somewhat) prepared in advance. I was, after all, choosing to wear these clothes as an expression of individuality and besides, it’s not like I would be wearing dress clothes at work, so why bother in doing so at the interview. They were hiring me and not the clothes. the jist of our conversation preceded as something like what follows.
“You’re not getting jobs because of the way you look.” he said to me, “That’s not the way people dress for an interview. They just don’t take you seriously”
“How do you know what they think?” was my retort and I then went through my reasoning for dressing as I was (as stated two paragraphs ago).
“You just don’t understand. It’s the way things are.” He replied. At this point my father’s frustration was beginning to become evident so, being the irascible son, I pushed the envelope just a little further.
“Says who? Who dictates on a world level what is determined as acceptable attire for interviews, or anything else, for that matter?” Now, while I admit that my real life wording on this matter was probably not as eloquently (if one could even call it that now) put as I have it here, its intended question remained the same. The answer I received was not really an answer at all, but a common cliché among parents who don’t know how to properly answer a question posed by their children.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
I am older now and, to a certain extent, I guess I do understand. The problem is that what I understand to be going on is the result of a very fucked up, repressive, and, often times, down right stupid system of control. Who, after all, does dictate what is determined to be proper behavior? It is more than the culmination of mass consensus as someone must first present whatever concept, agenda, or trend is to be popularized.
There are many little nuances and traditions in modern western society that, utilizing the internet, can easily be traced back to an acceptable point of origin. While some differing takes may be available, there usually seems to be a believable origin for the little things. Language nuances and sayings can be traced to their latin roots or to circumstances in the time period from which they originated. Holiday traditions and the like can be traced back to some point of origin; which one can depend on the researcher’s predisposed opinions and by just how far back in time the research takes them.
There are other aspects to our lives however, whose origins and/or current reasoning for their existence are not so easily discerned. My reminiscing earlier was more than a recollection of teenage angst and directionless rebellion. My hope was that it serves to remind us at this point in my argument that the clothes we wear are a great reminder of how we are played as victims in the control paradigm.
I have brought up the work of David Icke here before because, despite an approach that can be less academic than some may desire, he has done a wealth of excellent research and makes more than a few points which should cause any thinking, feeling human a great deal of concern. In his writings he brought up the point that, when looking at the majority of foreign dignitaries and their attire, they tend to wear the western style suit and tie. Despite being leaders of their respected nations with their own version of formal wear, they play the sycophant to international elites (aka Ass Clowns!) by wearing the three-piece bondage gear of European derived society.
Apparently Manifest Destiny and other concepts of its ilk were quite effective. Native traditions and peoples were destroyed in the western hemisphere while the people of Africa and Asia are forced to adopt a foreign culture’s dictates on fashion and etiquette in order to appease the Euro-centric banking cartels who in turn fund their nation’s rise to the international stage (Just ignore the fact that this rise in prominence is accompanied by a unrepayable debt to organizations like the IMF).
The western world’s suit, the epitome of gentlemanly success is, in fact, a pair of shackles. We put them on before “the big interview” and to “get that next promotion”. We wear them proudly as we head off to work in our white-collar jobs which are nothing more than indentured servitude to pay off your education (a god given right which should be free) of perhaps, just pay for housing, food, etc. (which, in an ideal society, should also be free).
Some call it a monkey suit and the analogy is fitting as even the most prominent of world leaders are but monkeys dancing for peanuts from their supposed gods. When we are forced into our suits those gods, or rather, Ass Clowns are having their authority reinforced and that, after all, is what they are all about. Authority, dominion, and control. The time has come to ditch the suits, my fellow humans, and be free.