“The people are only anxious for two things: bread and circuses.”

– Juvenal, Roman poet

As the Roman Empire collapsed from military over-expansion, economic troubles and barbarian invasions, elaborate public spectacles in the Colosseum became an overwhelming part of the citizen’s life. The Plebs took part in watching the grand gladiator matches, enraptured by the spilling of blood and innards at the sword, or by traitors and Christians tied to stakes and fed to lions. Through these performances, they were fed grand delusions of Rome’s history, and the emperors kept the people ignorant and entertained while their nation crumbled around them.

The giant that is the United States is sickened with the same disease. In peculiar parallel to the growing conspicuousness of our military failures and political corruption, American life is increasingly saturated by elaborate spectacle such as Nero could never have dreamed.

Our lives are filled with brainless tasks, repetitive routines and mindless drudgery in service to corporate entities – then, after scraping the grimy bottom of the fiscal barrel, we retreat to our homes, where for hours we sit alone in front of screens. We flip channels from sights of brilliant violence, to maudlin ‘reality’ shows, to soap operas, to grand sporting events, to dressed-up heads spouting cliches, ridicule and lies.

Or we are hooked up to the Internet, scrolling through meme-plastered Facebook walls, playing video games or watching cat videos on Youtube. In these virtual worlds, we participate in a massive and powerful community, yet remain anonymous and isolated. Meanwhile, our bodies take root into the couch, vegetate and rot away.

This is how modern man fills the appalling void of his inner life. This is the harlot who comforts our inescapable loneliness. The television is the household altar before which we pray five times a day, whose images we believe in with proto-religious fervor, and whose slogans we babble at one another. This is what millions of years of biological evolution have led up to. The illusion of the progress of science and morality is shattered. This is it, folks. The end of history.

When an internet video about baking cheesy bread receives 10 million views, while a video of Bernie Sanders explaining how the corporate state is dismantling our liberties receives barely 1 million views, you know there is something wrong.

I do not own a television. As a child, I rarely watched television. Only recently did I install internet in my home, albeit with painful reluctance and consideration. My dwelling is horded with books, artwork and memorabilia. Even while I wrote this column, I trailed away multiple times to surf the internet. My life, too, is a constant battle against human nature’s infinite capacity for distractions.

There is a church down my street. I have not attended in nearly a year. Two hours of hymns and mantras, a platitude from the pulpit, topped off with coffee and donuts, and we fashion ourselves the harbingers of humanity’s redemption. Another spectacle. Another meaningless distraction.

If it is not a god, then it is a lover we seek. Again, our virtual realm of screens betrays us. We desire only the longest of legs, the flashiest of cars or the smoothest of talkers. Perpetual flattery. Endless, mind-altering lust. We are not content with mere compatibility. So we suffer alone.

Ray Bradbury, a science fiction writer, feared a world that would ban books and burn them. I fear a world where no books are banned, because nobody wants to read them. George Orwell, another writer, feared a world that would control everything people think. I fear a world that does not need to control thought, because nobody thinks at all.

Recently, I found a way out of this horrible situation.

Thursday, a rare warm November day, I strolled through the neighborhood. For once I had no grand intentions, no big plans. I sought only reprieve from my laptop, to breath real air, hear real birds, see real people. Trapped in this Matrix of technology and entertainment, hope is elusive, but it is attainable. It may seem petty and insignificant, but a brief jog or a day spent camping may be the only escape humans have left.

Unless one counts knowledge itself. When one is aware he is a prisoner – and no longer believes his cage to be freedom – in his heart, he is truly free. As he rises, others will take notice of him. Some will watch him. A few might follow him.

But for the world to change, it must begin with you.

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“Rebel For Reason” investigates the truth in opposition to authority and popular opinion. Read more of A.C. Glasier’s writing at adambombwriter.wordpress.com.