This text will no doubt end up like the proverbial fart in the wind, but the time has come to air out some deep rooted frustration towards my own lovely species, the supposed Homo sapiens. I should begin with the sober and rather terrifyingly depressing note that nothing can change and it is folly to even try. There, I said it. All you lovely people whom I truly deem better than most for actually realizing the current state of affairs, the ones who try their damnedest to change things, it’s all for nothing, which you will hopefully come to realize sooner rather than later. To the rest of you I say; good riddance.
My mood, attitude and the rather apocalyptic goodbyes to the great majority of humans require some explaining before I venture any further. This is about the idiotic rioting; the childishly ridiculous burning of flags of countries you have an imagined grudge against (where do they always get hundreds of flags, and who cares if they burn them?); the daily hatefully racist remarks many people hear from fellow human beings (comments that by any standards one should only expect a halfwit to utter to another); violence against sexual minorities – be it rhetorical or physical – which has no basis in anything real except simple stupidity; all the governmental systems of the world – they’re all equally bad; the financial system which has managed to tell everybody to close our eyes, fingers in our ears and bend over, and we seem to be doing just that. And it hurts like hell.
Now, I realize the financial system is not a great entity that lives in an ethereal world of its own, waiting to be fed by bonds, newly printed money and the hopes and dreams of simpletons. Most, however, do not, and they gladly feed this imaginary cyclopean fiend the aforementioned grub. A similar illusion persists in respect to governments. The majority seems to think that we are dealing with some sort of a rational creature, while the reality is far more depressing, as governments tend to consist either of the career politician (who will never get anything done because their next pay depends on eternal stagnation), or the passing pandering populist (who doesn’t know how to do anything else but quack like a duck in heat). None of this is, of course, new information; it occasionally passes by on the fringes of mainstream media, only to be forgotten the very next moment, usually due to some nice piece of distraction like taxes or some imagined security issue, once more confirming man’s tendency towards idiocy. The world is on the brink of collapse due to lack of oil and the media is consistently talking about the cost of some conference or the prime ministers holiday plans. Maybe old Jefferson was right, and every system should have a revolution every twenty years. At least something would happen.
I’m deliberately confining my specific governmental critique to democratic systems, because all the others are such monolithic forms of simplemindedness that this writer’s head might explode delving into that.
The next momentous chapter in this history of halfwittism is patriotism. The great masses tell me I should love my country, they tell me I owe a deep debt to all the generations gone before me, they tell me other things, so many, many things. And none of them make a lick of sense. Should I owe something to pure happenstance? Should I die in a war – always motivated by money, or the needs of a few men – and be grateful for it? Paying our taxes is about as patriotic any of us should ever get (see flag burning above).
This brings me nicely to the raging erection every little boy and girl seems to get from the seemingly inviolable sanctity of absolutely everything. Patriotism is just the tip of the eternal iceberg of sanctimonious guano permeating every nook and cranny of human society. What we should do is laugh at everything, and what we are doing is licking our lips in anticipation of denouncing everything as the worst and most immoral thing in the history of bad things. For instance, the inability to accept the fact that other people have all forms of sex is one of the greatest mysteries produced by our cultures. I know a cock and a pussy can be scary, scary things, but for Pete’s sake get a grip. American censorship always explodes in a gush of orgasmic delight when they get to smudge away a nipple, but cutting a man’s head off doesn’t interest them a bit.
Our equally slow brothers and sisters in the Asian countries often get so excited about some holy prat or other that they congregate en masse in some just as holy building and happily proceed to trample each other to death, all in the name of everything holy; evolution playing out before our eyes perhaps? These annual customs are all but exempted from criticism or attempts at change because it’s all so holy. There are thousands of examples of such behavior, but I’m afraid an exhaustive list would exhaust our sanity.
From “holy” to unholy: the universal want for power in almost every human society would be absolutely comprehensible among sea lions, and perhaps buffalos and such, but in us? We, the rational man, the thinking man, the ones who have managed to smuggle our imbecile brains somehow to the moon and back, why in the name of all that holy crap people trample each other for, would anyone ever want power, or prestige (whatever that is)? They yearn for it, they strive for it, they achieve it, and then what? What’s it all for? What sanely satisfying thing can a man, who has all the power in the world, do that he could not do when he didn’t? I can understand a few psychopaths taking that road, but the rest of us? A hammock and a cozy library full of books, and perhaps a hunting rifle, is all any sane man should want in life, and the opposite (or same) sex of course. Add to that a pen and paper to scribble down all the frustration he feels towards his boorishly and incurably backward neighbors.
There is the occasional little go-getter who might have the sense needed to say once in a while; stop! This is all completely insane! Alas, they are either too afraid of confrontation or they have come to the same conclusion as I have; this all feels like screaming to an autistic child for wiping his shit with his bare hand. He would look at you and smile, uncomprehending, gently planting the feces ridden hand on your wisdom spouting mouth.
Here, then, ends my Sisyphean task of hammering a fistful of sense into anyone and everyone, for now. Many grievances I have with the world still, and though it is to no avail, they should be addressed for my own mental well-being. But they warrant a deeper burrowing into than this offhand shout.
- G
- G
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