I am whelmed by the philosophical implications of this question, “Are we being to harsh?” I must attempt to analyze this unassuming revelation, as the first scientist who studied the tiny atoms, which will one day kill us all.
1. “Are we”
The collectivization of a group of individuals into one group, highlighting their uniformity of thought and ultimately speech, is not unique to the author. What fraggle does propose with fresh rigor is the the suggestion that the fan base exists at all as a “we”, which is novel. He is allowing for there to be variation within the We, merely by asking “are?” This is a clever key that unlocks the remainder of our journey into the mirror of our mania.
2. “being”
Here the ***** begins to turn. Are we being? Are we one unified host? Can we exist as a singular entity, if within us dwells and expresses myriad thoughts, beliefs, feelings, and speech? Were not each of us several versions of ourselves on Saturday afternoon? Did we not all at different moments occupy the same identities of rage and jubilation, from Knoxville to New Zealand? Were we not ultimately one being, with as many splintered layers holding up our hopes as there are within the wooden buttresses holding up our houses of business and worship throughout the world. The very statement within the question of this one word “being” is a black hole from which certainty cannot escape, and only inky inquiry may consume.
3. “to”
I am undone. If the author added but one more “o” to his device, the meaning of this sentence becomes apparent and banal. There is no need to examine a living tree for what has caused its death. Yet fraggle hath wrought a murder, a killing of our expectations and a stabbing of our comforts. He has placed the dagger in our hands and smeared blood upon our jerseys, holding fast our sweaty faces and clutching our gaze for a moment as we realize: We plunged the blade into the chest. We have done the act “to” the victim in this story. We are the perpetrator — and yes, even the author! We have become fraggle, we have become the killer, we have become death — but onto whom?”
4. “harsh”
Here lies all rest within my soul, buried on the 3rd of November, 2024. How can someone kill Harsh itself? How much more of a monster must one be to slay a word whose very meaning is “grim or unpleasantly severe?” We are beyond the pale beyond the pale — we are the black hole of inquiry, and fraggle is the only saintly mirror large enough to reflect the truth of our horror back upon ourselves, forcing us to ask, “What have we become?!” Have we ventured so far into the void of criticism that we murdered the word Harsh itself? Made it a footstool as we step upon the stage of bellicose vitriol, declaring ourselves judge and god and **** all at once? Is there no longer an authority above or below, does moral navigation exist at all, or have we so broken the gravity of conscience written upon every human heart that Kiki and Meesh are but frail stars we consume for fuel and fury?
Methinks the record of this thread will never bear the weight of its author’s being. Methinks Saturday is now a school day, perhaps Sunday is as well.
Yet I ask: am I being to harsh?
