My last-ditch plea.

I wonder. If I should keep asking questions. About what to do next. Or should I merely lean back. And let life evolve. Willy-nilly.  Maybe I ask too many questions. Maybe it’s best to put life on cruise-control. On auto-pilot. Not take personal control anymore. I’m told that’s the wave of the future.  Automated cars. We don’t have to do the driving. A computer does it for us. We punch in our destination. And off we go. Trusting the latest new technology. To live our lives for us. I’m afraid. That’s what we are coming to. Making life too convenient. Yes, I’m suggesting. That I be purposely  inconvenienced. So that I have to make my own decisions. Otherwise, I may evolve into a robot. Programmed by the technocrats. That’s why and how we elected Donald Trump as president. There’s no other explanation.  We’re out of our minds.  We aren’t doing our own thinking. We are being guided. By remote control. My last ditch plea to the creator.  Please. Please. Save us. From the modern world. From ourselves. --Jim Broede