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Well yeah....
1984 © George Orwell
Comment and Enjoy ^ ^
1984 © George Orwell
Comment and Enjoy ^ ^
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 814 x 1280px
File Size 94.9 kB
Listed in Folders
Hah..... Well yeah im afraid thats really not the problem in our modern society....
Still, i oughta say that i am a virgin and i doubt i am ever gonna get some..... So to me living in this world ALSO feels like having the "no-sex" rule applied to me by the big bro
Still, i oughta say that i am a virgin and i doubt i am ever gonna get some..... So to me living in this world ALSO feels like having the "no-sex" rule applied to me by the big bro
1984 did happen, to countries all over Eastern Europe, Asia, Africa, and South America. The only thing that prevented it in the USA and its sphere of influence was constant vigilance, and we're ending that because people don't want to look at things things they don't want to see any more.
It's sort of ironic when you think about it, really. Not too long ago, if you spoke out against a government, you'd flee TO countries like the United States, but now you flee from them. Hell, the only people who want to come are the ones who later find out that they're too late to the table and are forced to scramble and fight over the crumbs.
Up here in space
I'm looking down on you
My lasers trace
Everything you do
You think you've private lives
Think nothing of the kind
There is no true escape
I'm watching all the time
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
Always in focus
You can't feel my stare
I zoom into you
You don't know I'm there
I take a pride in probing all your secret moves
My tearless retina takes pictures that can prove
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
Electric eye, in the sky
Feel my stare, always there
There's nothing you can do about it
Develop and expose
I feed upon your every thought
And so my power grows
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
I'm elected electric spy
I'm elected protective, detective, Electric Eye!
I'm looking down on you
My lasers trace
Everything you do
You think you've private lives
Think nothing of the kind
There is no true escape
I'm watching all the time
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
Always in focus
You can't feel my stare
I zoom into you
You don't know I'm there
I take a pride in probing all your secret moves
My tearless retina takes pictures that can prove
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
Electric eye, in the sky
Feel my stare, always there
There's nothing you can do about it
Develop and expose
I feed upon your every thought
And so my power grows
I'm made of metal
My circuits gleam
I am perpetual
I keep the country clean
I'm elected electric spy
I'm protected electric eye
I'm elected electric spy
I'm elected protective, detective, Electric Eye!
Laws of nature can't be changed. Man's ability to perceive them, however, can. The Inner Party doesn't care about having power over nature, only in having power over the minds of humanity. In fact the less power humanity has over nature the easier it is to keep them starving, fearful, and obedient.
“Do you remember,” [O'Brien] went on, “writing in your diary, ‘Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four’?”
“Yes,” said Winston.
O’Brien held up his left hand, its back toward Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?”
“Four.”
“And if the Party says that it is not four but five — then how many?”
“Four.”
The word ended in a gasp of pain. The needle of the dial had shot up to fifty-five. The sweat had sprung out all over Winston’s body. The air tore into his lungs and issued again in deep groans which even by clenching his teeth he could not stop. O’Brien watched him, the four fingers still extended. He drew back the lever. This time the pain was only slightly eased.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four.”
The needle went up to sixty.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four! Four! What else can I say? Four!”
The needle must have risen again, but he did not look at it. The heavy, stern face and the four fingers filled his vision. The fingers stood up before his eyes like pillars, enormous, blurry, and seeming to vibrate, but unmistakably four.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four! Stop it, stop it! How can you go on? Four! Four!”
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Five! Five! Five!”
“No, Winston, that is no use. You are lying. You still think there are four. How many fingers, please?”
“Four! Five! Four! Anything you like. Only stop it, stop the pain!”
Abruptly he was sitting up with O’Brien’s arm round his shoulders. He had perhaps lost consciousness for a few seconds. The bonds that had held his body down were loosened. He felt very cold, he was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth were chattering, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. For a moment he clung to O’Brien like a baby, curiously comforted by the heavy arm round his shoulders. He had the feeling that O’Brien was his protector, that the pain was something that came from outside, from some other source, and that it was O’Brien who would save him from it.
“You are a slow learner, Winston,” said O’Brien gently.
“How can I help it?” he blubbered. “How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.”
“Sometimes, Winston, sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.”
“Do you remember,” [O'Brien] went on, “writing in your diary, ‘Freedom is the freedom to say that two plus two make four’?”
“Yes,” said Winston.
O’Brien held up his left hand, its back toward Winston, with the thumb hidden and the four fingers extended.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?”
“Four.”
“And if the Party says that it is not four but five — then how many?”
“Four.”
The word ended in a gasp of pain. The needle of the dial had shot up to fifty-five. The sweat had sprung out all over Winston’s body. The air tore into his lungs and issued again in deep groans which even by clenching his teeth he could not stop. O’Brien watched him, the four fingers still extended. He drew back the lever. This time the pain was only slightly eased.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four.”
The needle went up to sixty.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four! Four! What else can I say? Four!”
The needle must have risen again, but he did not look at it. The heavy, stern face and the four fingers filled his vision. The fingers stood up before his eyes like pillars, enormous, blurry, and seeming to vibrate, but unmistakably four.
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Four! Stop it, stop it! How can you go on? Four! Four!”
“How many fingers, Winston?”
“Five! Five! Five!”
“No, Winston, that is no use. You are lying. You still think there are four. How many fingers, please?”
“Four! Five! Four! Anything you like. Only stop it, stop the pain!”
Abruptly he was sitting up with O’Brien’s arm round his shoulders. He had perhaps lost consciousness for a few seconds. The bonds that had held his body down were loosened. He felt very cold, he was shaking uncontrollably, his teeth were chattering, the tears were rolling down his cheeks. For a moment he clung to O’Brien like a baby, curiously comforted by the heavy arm round his shoulders. He had the feeling that O’Brien was his protector, that the pain was something that came from outside, from some other source, and that it was O’Brien who would save him from it.
“You are a slow learner, Winston,” said O’Brien gently.
“How can I help it?” he blubbered. “How can I help seeing what is in front of my eyes? Two and two are four.”
“Sometimes, Winston, sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are all of them at once. You must try harder. It is not easy to become sane.”
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