What is the Cost of Freedom?

Fifty bucks? No? Two hundred? C’mon, we’re talking about freedom here. Twenty-thousand? Face it, you wold give anything to be truly free. But you ain’t got the money. Need I say more?
It has come to my attention that I often use the term “need I say more?“. As if I expected you, the understanding reader, to understand a single fucking thing I write, as if you knew the connotations I am referring to, as if you knew… anything at all. Well, perhaps I just use it suggestively, to sort of force you to understand. Or, who knows, just to make you act as if you understand, to yourself, in your brain. Better than nothing. Do you understand what I am saying? Need I say more? Haha.
But I digress. What is freedom? Are you ever free? Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you have those twenty-thousand buckaroos. What are you really buying? You are free. You can do anything now. Real freedom. Not just freedom from pain, from want, from repression… that’s all just props. Real freedom… you wouldn’t even know what to do with it. Real freedom is, if anything, in your head, and that you simply can not buy. But then again, you can not even imagine real freedom; the human mind is not capable of it, and wouldn’t want it if it was. How are you going to buy something you can’t even think? The coast of true freedom is your own humanity.
Brand New Cadillac from The Clash.