More and more people are finding themselves lashed to posts, left outdoors, and forced to sing. It's not so much a performance. Their singing is not for others to view but is a sort of punishment for them to endure. To experience, first hand, culture in its most brutal form.
Resistance, as it does so often in these times, comes through choice of song. Thus we are greeted with the sight of half-crucified peasants yelping out Achy Breaky Heart while volcanoes ignite the sky and pilots lose their will.
The populace has walled itself off from the arts as though they were an infectious disease. It's about time they began acting as one.