Everybody Knows


Leonard Cohen’s ‘Everybody Knows’ says it all. It’s a seductively bitter ballad to those who despair of the world’s unfairness, with his bass-heavy tones seeming to commiserate with you and absolve you of all responsibilities for doing anything about it. What’s the point, when everybody knows?

Everybody knows we now have a leader of the free world who openly censors journalists at his press conferences.

Everybody knows this Q&A was set up by the Department of Propaganda.

Everybody knows the prisons are full of the brave.

Everybody knows that all that matters is the money keeps flowing.

Our harbinger of hope flew away this morning through an opening left in the looming rainclouds.

The Lady’s view of the murders and rapes is being obscured by her Norwegian badge of honour.

And we’re left wondering what can we do? What can we do with that ten-minute gap between work, commuting, learning new skills, exercising, searching for the most chemical-free food available in our area…

Caring for those people who make all this bearable…

We wait for the people vying for leadership roles to reveal themselves to be egotistical  megalomaniacs.

Those in charge of the vulnerable select the cute kids with the sad eyes for their brochures, then count the money rolling in from their spa resort in the mountain.

The people who rush to the crisis hotspots come laden with God complexes and secrets that need to be drowned at the bottom of a endless bottles of whiskey in the nearest bar.

And everywhere around the world, from the children sorting the stinking garbage to the fat, bald white men bursting out of their Prada shirts onto the polished mahogany table in the conference room overlooking Wall St., people get so caught up in petty internecine squabbles that nothing ever gets done about the cesspool they all stand in.

It’s ok, honey. Everybody knows.


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