Three times the size of that Christian god that’s unreasonably inflated, for $1.98 any common digit-worker can congest the dome-like skies over Las Vegas. His or her swollen image and booming voice get projected in a William Gibson-like nightmarish daydream of modern emptiness. Perhaps. Or is it an inexpensive podium for the people’s voices?
The classic rub, of course, is that openly free speech is often perverted into the perfect passive tool for control of the masses. Air your views with ease, without obstacle, and your concerns, your meanings, your conclusions become nothing more than harmless vapors on an unconcerned sky, pushed about by fickle winds. When the people talk nonstop, the people stop listening. So, everything—the accurate and the inaccurate, the good and the bad, the needed and the unneeded—becomes a dense cloud of impossible possibilities. And the people wander, blind.