The call of the couch and its dreamy stupor are pitiless. The
couch knows, but does not care, that to surrender to its embrace for more than
a brief time exacts a cost that even heaven’s highest angels can hardly bear. To
allow the dreamy stupor’s active ingredient – the impossible promise of
all-curing ease – to seduce, eventually knives one with the realization that
the ever-increasing dosages required, as one grows mentally and then physically
fat, delivers less and less dreamy and more and more stupor.
The lie of the couch is that, contrary to all evidence, one
more moment in its embrace will restore the vigor it has stolen, the happiness
it is has eroded, the will it has sapped. The power of the couch is that it
always sells this lie with unimaginable ease. It is death by little pillows.
Surely the downfall of civilization, and yet a most worthy pop culture icon.
ReplyDeleteAs much as I dislike Robert Bork, his book title 'Slouching Toward Gomorrah' captures something. Except you could argue, I think, the nearer risk is that we are slouching toward Salem (as in the witch trials).
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment.