Mr. Lizard Brain

  Different people want different things according to their temperament and their intellect. What they (we) all have in common is Mr. Lizard Brain. Mr. LB doesn't really have a job anymore so he makes nothing into something by overreacting to the slightest input.  Did some driver cut you off in traffic? Mr. LB wants to run him off the road and watch as he explodes into a fireball.  See a billboard for cheap flights to Cancun?  Mr. LB immediately tells you that your happiness, therefore your well being and perhaps even your survival depends upon booking that trip immediately.  Is that perfectly good car in your garage not the latest and greatest thing on wheels?  Do you feel a slight pressure in the back of your head, like an itch you can't quite reach, every time you see a new car or an ad for a new car?  Mr. LB is in direct communication with the finance department at your local dealer. (Dealers are dealers whether they push cars or drugs)  "Come on down and we'll get you out of that bad decision you've been driving, even though you are hopelessly upside down on it; plus we'll put you in the automobile of your (our) dreams.  Its the new Gran Family Truckster Wagon!!! You hate it now but just wait until you drive it.  Mr. Lb has already made the deal and you, you poor fool, are literally just along for the ride.

  Desire is the jungle in which we live.  Instead of watching out for big hungry things that might want us for lunch, we watch out for the next big sale down at the Megastuff Store.  Instead of spending the entire day looking for something to eat, we spend the entire day eating.  Instead of fighting for survival we watch other people pretend to fight in highly contrived situations whose outcome has no meaning whatsoever.  I'm talking about "professional" sports, the biggest waste of time and money ever conceived by man.  And yet it thrives because it appeals to our baser instincts, specifically those of Mr. LB.  The fight for survival has be replace by pretend wars of conquest.  We don't have to learn how to fight; we don't have to stay in shape; we don't have any struggle at all.  So we invent tribes, called teams, and pledge our allegiance to them, and send them into battle so that we may vicariously experience the thrill of combat (now called competition).  We wear the colors of our chosen tribe and loudly proclaim their superiority.  We pay the tribe outrageous sums to fight for us according to a strict set of rules.  Mr. LB loves rules.  He understands rules because they are black and white, no room for debate or interpretation. Rules allow snap decisions, the only kind Mr. LB understands.  Of course the only thing Mr. LB likes more than rules is breaking them.