When the world had exhausted itself for grieving, when we were bereft of grief, Agnes Gonxha Bojaxhiu, the saint of the gutters, otherwise known as Mother Teresa, died. That was five days after nearly the entire population of the world grieved as it never had before for the death of a princess. There was little grief left for the saint by then. It had all been spent on the pretty and pretty tragic princess.

Absence had made the heart fonder and gentler and the grief kinder when Ronald Reagan died on June 5, 2004. But when America had already spent most of its grief on a dead president, there was not much left for Ray Charles who died five days later.

This is perhaps a bit of Canadiana but it’s important to me nonetheless. In Canada we have, or had, our own Mr. Rogers. He was born Ernie Coombs but millions of Canadian 20 and 30 somethings know him as Mr. Dressup. He taught children to live and love and play and learn. Seven days after the world had shown its darkest side, uglier than anybody had ever imagined, on September 18th 2001, Mr. Dressup dressed up in his last suit and was commended to God.

Aldous Huxley, perhaps best know for Brave New World, had the terrible misfortune of dying on November 22, 1963. Not a good day to die if you wanted people to notice; unless you were President JFK.

Huxley is better off dead, I suppose. I’m sure he would be terribly disconcerted to see “Brave New World” used by every hack ad agency in the world. Your cola with half the carbohydrates is not a brave new world in refreshment. Your dance remixes are not a brave new world of hip hop culture. Your lighter choice menu is not a brave new world of healthier eating. Sweet Jesus. There is no brave new world anymore. It’s the same old tired world where ad agencies hack the collective consciousness and rip off copy from book jackets to manufacture our lethargic consent.

Soma is all marketing. And marketing is all Soma.

SS