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Last year I trained a new employee who clipped off a few strands of hair and taped it to the edge of the overhead shelf between our undivided cubicles. As I turned to answer her questions, noticing the curly, brown locks suspended like Christmas tinsel, I asked, “What is this?”

She bragged about her hair care products, gave the sample a tug and exclaimed, “Look how springy!” To which I replied, “Are you high?”

Apparently, she was, and thankfully, no longer occupies an office position in my corner of the world. But I’m certain there are many more on the random list from where she materialized.

The advent of YouTube, Kardashian Jerseylisciousness and panty-free MTV induces an absence of etiquette where voluptuous vapids and vomit are en vogue. Generations of trophies to celebrate “just being you” have led us to this self-inflated, egocentric conflagration of the absurd embracing the mantra, “it’s all good.” Well, it’s not.

We have an elementary alphabet chart above the office file cabinets, but without spell check, where does the “i before e except after c” go? To the land of lost literature and 140 characters of “1984” Newspeak, an abbreviated language alternative of a frightening, fictional youth. I fear we are plummeting into a de-evolution of eerie Orwellian similarities.

Donald Trump earned another season of “Celebrity Apprentice” while the brilliant dialogue of David E. Kelly has been silenced because, let’s face it, the star of “Harry’s Law,” Kathy Bates, is graying, overweight and over 50. The target demographics are inconsistent with viewers of “The Bachelor,” “Love in the Wild,” “Mob Wives” and “The Bad Girl’s Club” – cheap entertainment that keeps our focus off of that pesky feminist stuff. After all, why worry your pretty little head while it’s snarled in extensions?

Walking through the store, I spied a bottle of Dumb Blonde next to the shampoo I was selecting. I am blonde – born one – and still suffer the idiotic jokes executed since the Great Ziegfeld bleached a 1920s chorus line in unison.

None are so unkind as my own gender, who have devoured every chicken-fight morsel like lambs to slaughter with a skinny girl martini in one hand and a copy of “Fifty Shades of Grey” in the other, still unaware that our sacred, powerful house of feminine wiles divided can never earn more than 78 cents on the dollar.

But who cares when Rush Limbaugh’s Femi-Nazi rants are cheered? Maybe a few hours of “Sophie’s Choice” or “Schindler’s List” would be educational, while the children play “Grand Theft Auto.” Nazi, I suspect, is beyond our current cultural comprehension.

To connect women’s rights – including the 19th century suffrage movement to vote, and the most recent right to financial and physical freedom without a male counterpart’s approval – with the evil atrocities of the Third Reich is sad. But Newspeak can give history selective definitions.

Perhaps the Mayan calendar is right, and Dec. 21 ends our earthly lessons, for collectively, we cannot see. Or the societal reincarnation, according to “The Sleeping Prophet,” Edgar Cayce, of our America is the fabled Atlantis. And we have reached our stupid, greedy end once again.