The world of psycho-social rehabilitation isn’t the real world. The person in psycho-social rehabilitation has returned to the make believe, and less significant, world of adolescence and childhood. I have a problem, to cut to the real, with this kind of languishing in the waiting room. I don’t think it makes much sense to spend one’s precious time and entire life in a waiting room. Now I could be wrong, but it seems to my way of thinking that this waiting for nothing in particular to happen represents an incredible waste.
It’s possible that what we’re seeing is the apotheosis of bureaucracy. Bureaucrats like to make everyone wait. There are rules, procedures, and red tape, and when you’re finished with them, you’re a cadaver. The waiting room is where people congregate, and learn the rules, procedures, and red tape. Anywhere else is what the waiting room is designed to postpone. You frequent the waiting room until you’re spirit enough to make an excursion into the real world posthumously.
People wouldn’t frequent the waiting room if they were in their right minds, and therefore, there is propaganda and a professional elite trained to convince people that they are not in their right minds. As long as you are in your wrong mind you must be in the right place. Self-assured people with a lot of confidence wouldn’t fritter away their lives in a waiting room waiting on some kind of appointment they aren’t going to make. Cowed and beaten down defeated people, on the other hand, know that wherever they’re going it isn’t a good place.
When you’ve got people convinced that they will never be in their right minds, you’ve won the ball game. They are the losing team enduring the penalty of defeat. You are the conquering army. You’ve got a salary, a life, and a fief; they haven’t got squat. They put money in your pocket, they put bacon on your table, and they get the kids through college. Somebody has to pay for them, and that somebody is Joe Taxpayer, but the money goes into your pocket. If they ever wake up, hell’s bells, your out on your arse and pounding the pavement.
We have a relationship here similar to that between the beggar for alms and the benefactor of beggars for alms. This is a reminder that ex-bedlam inmates in England used to be provided with licenses to beg. After all, who’s going to provide a job to a loony bird? We have what we call the human condition, and the human condition wouldn’t be the human condition if loony birds could be anything other than loony birds. The ugly duckling tale, well, that’s a fairytale, isn’t it? So long as people are fated, some people are going to come out on the winning end of any proposition, and some on the losing end.
If fate, in this case, sounds like a gamble, you’ve got it! It is not reason that guides the affairs of humanity, given the world that we’ve created for ourselves, it is greed and advantage. We haven’t yet designed a world for all of its inhabitants. We’ve designed a world for its luckiest inhabitants. That, after all, is what you get from any gamble. So long as life is a gamble, in which luck and treachery mean everything, you are going to get a whole population holding the short end of the stick. When we stop gambling, maybe we can find a better purpose for this waiting room than waiting for a perpetual game to end.