INFLUENCERS ARE SAVING US FROM ‘BIG BROTHER’

INFLUENCERS ARE SAVING US FROM ‘BIG BROTHER’

by Bill Knell 


INFLUENCERS are everywhere these days and they cover every topic imaginable. Love them or hate them, they are providing us with an essential service by giving us honest choices.


I saw it by High School. Believe what we tell you and do things the way we want you to, or fail. If you fail there goes your chance at personal and financial success as they see it. It's been the perfect example of George Orwell's vision of a ‘Big Brother' dominated society, prophesied in his novel “1984”.


I went to Junior High in New York. Generally thought to be an open-minded, while socially conscious place, our school library became a bone of contention when they added a new book to their collection. “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich” by William L. Shirer was anything but a work that glorified Nazis or Fascism of any kind.


Instead, the Shirer non-fiction work was a strong indictment of National Socialism and a plea to recognize and sympathize with its victims. The book was accepted and even recommended by most of the Jewish Community. However, the Swastika on its cover sealed the best-selling book's fate in our school. Too many people were ‘offended’ by it. In the same mindset, the U.S. flag had become equally offensive to many who had anti-war feelings in our school, yet it was neither  banned or removed.


Today we are living in an Orwellian nightmare, whether we realize it or not. We're told how to act, what to eat, how to dress, how to write and so on. I wish I had a dollar for every know-it-all article preaching an “our way or no way” philosophy which, whether purposely or not, delivers the only ‘acceptable’ way to do, say or write something.


INFLUENCERS are saving us from this nightmare by going against the grain and proving that success doesn't always have to happen because we marched in lock step with what we have been taught is the global norm. Influencers must constantly fight against being cancelled because of the entirely false narrative of ‘Community Standards'.


INFLUENCERS prove an important point, especially when they do get cancelled… If you achieve success without paying attention to all the “don't you dare!” rules and regulations set for us by power mad beaurocrats and intellect-speak do gooders, they will do all they can to destroy you and the message you're trying to convey.


A good example of all this is the new search to soften language that might offend someone. In yet another typical Orwellian prophecy come true, People don't get killed anymore: they get ‘unalived’. House break-ins are a thing of the past; they are now ‘home invasions'. Really? Well, hey everybody, life can sometimes be very offensive whether we like it or not.


I grew up in the 60s and 70s when people believed things like “Do you're own thing” and “Be yourself”. Then, political correctness came along to ruin the party and turn us all into obedient robots whose programming must meet those superficial Community Standards.


The societal changes have been especially hard on kids, tweens and teens. Saying the wrong thing, believing something different or wearing the wrong clothes, can get them kicked out of school. Even worse, we're now told they are just too psychologically immature to make their own decisions or share their opinions.


While surfing through YouTube I found a twelve year old girl who was absolutely hilarious. Her posts and live segments were funny and well thought out. My girlfriend and I watched and laughed our butts off. Her name is Kylie and she is well beyond her age, intellectually speaking. Then, the “you can't say or do that because you're a kid” police came along and cancelled her.


Kylie moved on to Instagram. Once again, she delighted us all with her wit and talent (she plays guitar really well and sings). Nothing she ever did, said or posted could have possibly been offensive to anyone. She was more than willing to allow her followers to submit comments, especially in her live segments, which made it all the more entertaining. Despite all this, the ‘a kid can't do or say that’ cops came along and cancelled her.


So here's a message to all the politically correct, know-it-all, do it our way or not at all, Despots from yours truly. Take a long walk off a short pier. And to the Influencers of all ages I say… Keep on, keeping on and save us from Big Brother and ourselves.



Kailey Fields offers readers fresh and very human fiction stories that are unique, yet relatable.


The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.


The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and decaying leaves. Each step crunched on the forest floor, a sound amplified in the suffocating silence of the Blackwood Forest. My breath hitched in my throat, a thin plume of white mist disappearing into the inky blackness. The only light came from my lantern, a feeble spark against the overwhelming darkness that pressed in from all sides, swallowing the forest in its shadowy embrace. Above, the branches of ancient trees twisted like skeletal fingers, their gnarled silhouettes scratching at the moonless sky.

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The darkness claimed me, swallowing me whole. But in death, a twisted metamorphosis occurred. The venom of betrayal, the searing agony of death, transformed into a cold, unrelenting fire. I became a specter, an instrument of vengeance. The chilling weight of my decomposing body became a burden that fueled my relentless pursuit.

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Grandma Elara's tales filled the quiet evenings at her house. The aroma of woodsmoke and simmering herbs hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of old books and the comforting warmth of her presence. Her cozy old house seemed to hum with a gentle energy, a place where ancient stories and timeless secrets intertwined. The antique furniture, each piece telling a story of its own, seemed to come alive as she spun her tales, the very atmosphere of the house adding to the mystique of the Ceasg and its watery realm.

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Cerelia, a museum employee with a penchant for the obscure and a healthy dose of skepticism tempered by an insatiable curiosity, had been cleaning the newly acquired collection of ancient artifacts. She was meticulous, and painstaking in her work, a sharp contrast to the hurried pace of the city outside the museum walls. She liked the quiet solitude of the museum, a world apart from the noisy urban jungle. She found solace in the relics of the past, each object whispering a story of bygone eras.

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Aislinn felt it too, a growing sense of unease, not just from the tales of a missing Prince, but from the visions teased by the necklace. The shadowed figure, the one with piercing eyes and a cruel smile,haunted her dreams and even invaded her waking moments. He was connected to the necklace, a palpable sense of threat radiating from the glowing pendant. The prince's fate, she now realized, was entwined with her own. And somewhere, a darkness waited, a darkness that the necklace seemed both to warn her about and guide her towards. The quiet village of Oakhaven, with its familiar rhythms and predictable patterns, could no longer contain her. 



The seeds of her self-doubt had been sown in her early years. She'd been relentlessly bullied in school for being different, for her passion for gaming, which had been dismissed as a “boy thing.” That hurt had left deep scars. Creating Lemonade had been a shield, a way to deflect the negativity she faced in the real world. It was a safe space where she could be celebrated for her skills, her wit, and her personality, instead of facing ridicule.

paperback



She traced the lines on her palm, searching for a familiar scar, a birthmark, anything to tether herself to a stable identity. Nothing. Even her own body felt slightly different, as if her reflection in the warped mirror across the room was an imposter. The subtle variations – the way her hair fell, a new freckle on her cheek, the faintest shift in her eyes – were enough to unsettle her further. It was as if she was perpetually teetering on the edge of a precipice, the ground constantly shifting beneath her feet.

eBook, paperback or hardcover


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