Who gets to decide?
During this project, they sent me handlers one after the other trying to get me to accept one. Big sisters. Hot guys. Cultured Europeans. Musicians. Anything I guess they thought I might like.
I’m pretty sure that big shot during the 90s was playing that handier role to me - although I didn’t realize it then.
They teach me what they want and don’t want want with all those carrots and sticks. I’m not livestock and I’m not a ward on their plantation. Yesterday - all by itself - YouTube started giving me notifications on the Roger Waters tour. Nice try.
