Serial Killers


Serial Killers

My eyes are bloodshot and puffy, my skin is a paler shade of white than I’m used to and I’m sure I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes?! This is what happens during a House of Cards (season 4) binge. I’m ashamed, I am an addict, I can’t turn my attention away from the Machiavelian machinations of the power hungry Underwoods.
The psychology behind the narcissistic- sociopathic characters is masterful, the writing slick and the acting more than accomplished. But, I can’t help feeling even as I stuff as much of it into my exhausted mind after a full day’s work as I can, that I am ingesting something fundamentally unhealthy, that I shouldn’t look at it too closely in case I lose my appetite. This form of low level information processing is like eating processed food that tries to distract you from the dastardly fine print of its label filled with carcinogenic preservatives.

In 1843, Marx wrote that “religion is the opiate of the masses”, 173 years later I dare to state that religion has been replaced by Series! Want to write a few pages of that book you promised yourself you would write by 45? Nah, why don’t you just lie back and watch another installment of that great show you’ve chosen as your new best friend for the next week. Need to talk about a thorny issue with your partner? Rewrite your CV, complete your overdue taxes? Perish the thought! The Devil no longer carries a pitchfork, or wears Prada, her name is Claire Underwood and she has a really complicated relationship with her mother.

Watching my mind wriggle out of the responsibilities it has in order to get its ‘fix’ has become farcical. I suppose I could consider a 90 day series fast, you know…to teach my mind a lesson after its gratuitous gorging at the trough, but I’ve just got three more episodes to watch and then I’ll pull myself together (?)

About the author

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Jamie Elkon http://shrinkrap.co.za/

The author can be found rummaging through life looking for nourishment in the early hours of the morning. He is slowly going sane by using his actual life and relationships to wake up.He lives in Cape Town with his teenaged daughter, two bassett hounds named Thelma and Louise and Digit... the cat. He hugs trees, has experienced numerous dark nights of the soul, collects incorrect Chinese packaging and tracks curious things to their lair.