the tyrrany of the media

A nation full of bees: they work work work all day long, and at the end collapse into their hexagonal chambers. There, ensconced in warmth, they are fed dripping elixir through long feeding tubes, winding from their queen's porous udders down to their mouths, and as they drift into a chemically-induced haze their eyes focus only on small CRT monitors embedded in each cell wall. There they receive the "official story"; there their minds are spoonfed. This is how it happened, and this is what you should think of it. And a thousand drowsy bees murmur "yes, that's what happened; yes, that's what I think of it." For variety, on some days slightly different messages are piped into each chamber. The next day, busy at work, first one bee voices the opinions displayed on his monitor, then another the opinions displayed on hers. In repeating the views they have been fed they feel important, they feel right. They think "I'm arguing; I'm debating; I have my own opinion." Once one has tasted this elixir, once one has viewed the tiny monitor, one can never become a queen.