The Cult of "Hype-Nosis"

Whenever I hear the strains of that inspirational ballad "I Believe I Can Fly" I'm overcome with the sudden urge to punch someone in the face. It's an instant reflex. One that flicks the switch on to common sense and quickly regresses into blind rage. Hate doesn't come close to describing my mood at this pretentious, faux inspirational, do good attempt at a song about uplifting our sagging spirits and reaching for the stars.
If I wanted to be an astronaut and live up in outer space, fine but I'm quite content living on an island in Asia wearing shorts, t-shirt and flip flops. Try doing that up in the solar system? My own inspiration comes about 6 pm when the thought of opening a stunning bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and catching the last glimpse of a sunset is on the radar.
And yet we as a race are so gullible, like those sheep set to plunge over the edge of a cliff, at a moment's notice. We really do believe we can fly – and what's worse than flying sheep?
My mind has stalled at 8,000 meters so let's move on, past the sheep, and talk about the errant shepherds.
Those who are religiously inclined might suddenly turn to a visual of Jesus tending his flock of sheep in some serene valley, but the J Man never tried to sell real estate. Actually that's not correct, the whole concept of heaven and the promise of eternal life and a personal piece of property high up the sky started with the rise of christianity.
Here it is, the ultimate conspiracy. Call in the Da Vinci Code. Who's the wolf in sheep's clothing? Lucy in the Sky with Diamond's has her own billboard on the expressway of happiness, so we can wrap in the Fab Four too. Call it hype, mass hypnosis or just plain steroids, but the truth remains that almost everyone just wants to feel good.
Real estate developers and brokers often attempt to translate that vibe and convince the monied Dr. Feelgood into buying a penthouse condominium. Growing a beard is not an option unless you want to end up looking like one of the members of the band ZZ Top or a water-boarded Gitmo Bay inmate. And yet how do you get those sheep over the cliff?
This is the shiny little marketing guys come in, be it guaranteed returns, giveaway Apple products, promises of a sharper image, branded furniture, or an excellent espresso from a high-heeled amazonian model type.
Damn these people are good. Can I buy two?
But what do you do if you are stuck in an elevator alone and the backup power fails, yet the strains of "I Believe I Can Fly" continue to creep into your subconscious? Forget prayer, as you know where all this real estate stuff started. And you can't call Ghostbusters as the mobile service has been disrupted.
At the end of the line hype is hype and what we hate we love. And what we love we hate. There is a fine line between the two so next time you get to close to the cliff, just back away slowly – very slowly – and run for your life.