Last night, I slept for twelve straight hours. This morning, I feel like a new person. And amazingly, the world feels like a better place.
Probably the best tool of dominance the current labour (and market) system has devised for its choiceless participants is systematic sleep deprivation. We have to work too hard — hard work is a virtue, after all, unless it was done by the Soviets (in which case it was near-slavery) — and have too many errands to run (we must be independent to the point of being socially disconnected stand-alone humans, musn’t we?) to ever sleep to our bodies’ content. To sleep so sufficiently that we wake up on our own accord in the mornings is a dream so distant that waking up sleepy has become the default human resting pattern.
And such wondrous zombies this makes of us, that we seldom have time to stand a while and take stock of why our lives have changed so drastically over the last few decades. And thus do the masters of our destiny thrive, lording over a populace too desperate for mere surival to ask the big questions.
We have our gods right here on earth, we just don’t recognise them*.
[This is a privileged middle-class rant, although working conditions have worsened across the social strata]
*Probably in part because they make sure the religious right in every culture is whipped up into a frenzy to keep us distracted.