It has long been known that the producer of a frankfurter must answer honestly and precisely, listing by percentage how much concentrate, water, binders, flavorings, and colorants it contains. Nothing can remain hidden. Every ingredient that a person puts into their mouth must be like an open diary — exposed in grams and percentages.
However, what a person “consumes” through the media is not subject to any Frankfurter Law.
A newspaper doesn’t have to disclose in its imprint that today’s editorial contains: 37% propagandistic steering, 21% half-baked rambling, 16% harmless bootlicking, 11% skillful concealment, 8% weary resignation, and only 7% truth (and even that truth polished to a shine).
A reporter doesn’t have to add a note under their article stating that it’s sugar-coated glamour mixed with lifestyle magazine-style soft porn, slyly winking a corporate order at the reader from between the lines.
No trumpets sound in the city square to announce that the new rescue law is actually a half-sour cunning plan.
The media heralds still stand proudly on their platforms, accompanied by worn-out drums, proclaiming:
“We protect you! We reveal the truth! We make the choices for you!” — just like always.
The only difference is that when buying a frankfurter, a person can at least turn the package over and read the tiny flea-sized print, revealing that it actually contains only one-fifth meat and four-fifths something else.
But when opening a newspaper or listening to the evening news, nowhere will you find a label stating that the plan to “save the world” consists of:
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40% emotionally directed manipulation,
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25% broad smiles aimed at sponsors,
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20% plastic replicas of free speech,
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and 15% threats of punishment for those who dare to ask questions.
A frankfurter must list its ingredients; otherwise, it would be considered fraud.
With the media, it’s the opposite: hiding the “ingredients” is part of their license.
And so it goes: people are allowed to “freely” choose elections, “freely” choose opinions, and “freely” choose entertainment — just like a child is allowed to choose between cotton candy and emptiness at the candy store — both from the same shelf, both tasting of the same sweet oblivion.
The only real choice you are given is at the frankfurter counter:
Do you want to know what will make your stomach turn?
Or will you happily keep eating, believing that at least this frankfurter tells you the whole truth?
(by Hannes Võrno, Facebook,translation adapted from Estonian into English.)
