A businessman and a priest wait for a cab outside in the rain.
The priest flips through a newspaper and shakes his head, as the rain drizzles down on him. “Car bombs kill 15 in Afghanistan, gas prices are on the rise. And studies now show that cell phones might kill brain cells? I know I shouldn’t be saying it, but this world is going to shit.”
The businessman takes the newspaper from his friend and flips through it. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to swallow all of that. The news you see or hear, whether in the paper or on T.V, those stories aren’t being told to you, my friend. They’re being sold to you. The news lets us hear the blues because that’s the kind of tune we’ll listen to. Tears and fears appear less clear than the transparent truth. So they make their material more opaque by colouring it with tragedy; that’s how they get us to put our lives on hold a moment and buy into their product. ‘See Spot run’, becomes ‘See Spot, allegedly rabid dog, give chase to an elderly white man. It takes only a few choice words and details to spin a tragedy into a spectacle.’”
The businessman hands the paper back to his friend, “The media will do anything to sell a story even if it means painting a target on a man’s back, and the internet will be so quick to crucify him. Back in the day, the mob used to get together, light their torches and appoint the sheep who took the first step as shepherd to follow on the path to set someone or something aflame. Now, it’s a few clicks to like and share, and maybe an angry comment online; but, in concept, it’s no different. The mob may be less mobile, but it is no less blind. If you really want truth, be critical of it. Read between the lines, and find the real message that’s not underlined. If you’re at home catching the news on T.V and wondering if there’s any good left in the world, you’re looking through the wrong screen. Try your window instead. Or better yet, outside of it. There is more good in the world than we’re told.”
The priest looks to the businessman, “Maybe you’re right,” and rolls the paper up as a cab crawls up next to them. They hop inside, and drive off as the pitter patter of the rain slides off the windows.