How Black is Your Fucking Heart?
What did you want to be when you were a child? If your answer is a job description then I’d wager my better, meatier testicle that it never happened. I wanted to be an architect, or a game designer, or a poet. The last was closest, but poetry barely pays enough to eat shoe leather thrice a month and certainly won’t manage real food or bills. You need passion to live, but you can’t chew on it.
Occasionally, I get a yawning hole in my stomach and a burning need to fill it. I’ve sold time, books, the strength of my back, my silver tongue, and plasma, but it all feels like spilling blood for another day of the same old crap. Writing is the only way I know how to bleed without opening a vein. Come have a taste of this ichor.
I don’t know how the last generation did it, nor the one before, but kids today don’t just pick a company and stay there. The money’s not worth it. This is a gig economy. You find a shitty job to last you until you find a better crap job.
Maybe if some devil takes a shine to you there’s a job you almost enjoy. Unless you punch your number for a big name corporation your boss can’t afford to pay you more than he does now. If you want a raise, you better earn it with blood, sweat, and pain.
You hear about stores locking up laundry detergent and a sham story on the company discontinuing the things, but the part nobody seems to get is how fucking hilarious of a shit show it is. Some kid videos itself biting into one of these gooey suckers and starts foaming at the mouth to see what happens, now it’s a nation-wide thing.
You ever see that warning on a chainsaw about not stopping the blade with your genitals? Same deal, do you need a doctor to tell you stopping a chainsaw blade with your john is bad for your health? No? Maybe you’ll get to pass on your defective genes to another generation of degenerate assholes, then.
In the first half of the 20th century, after the Great War outed the upper crust as just more of the same stupid shit boiling in the lower classes underneath, the Dada movement started rolling. Anti-intellectual, anti-reason, anti-bourgeoisie- it was a steaming pot of crap wrapped up in shit colored paper. If you walked into a Dadaism exhibit and didn’t get the punchline then congratulations, it was you.
The whole moronic movement made the upper class into the butt of every joke for decades, and the people loved it. Now this Millennial Neo-Dadaism is up and rolling with its vantablack humor and anti-capitalist momentum. Hell, if you get sick of the same old thing, just pop some Tide or snort some Ajax. Things’ll get interesting in a wicked hurry. If you can’t afford the medical bills, hey, you just get to see the apocalypse a few decades early.
Jokes about suicide annoy me, but I get it. We’re supposed to buy a house, have cute little squalling monsters of our own, invest in the company and pretend it’s not just a different color of kool-aid. We’re supposed to forget that we all have a first class ticket to hell, and everybody’s fresh out of ice, water, and aloe.
Sort of makes sense to just call it quits and throw in the towel if you look at it that way. There’s just one problem, this is our world too and if anybody’s going to burn it down, I’d better be in on the con. Until I decide to raise up a little demon of my own, this world is mine. I’m not about to leave the clean up half done.
Nihilism is in full swing, for good and ill. I don’t fly that flag, but we use the same colors. Meaning is relative, so what means the most is whatever we can all agree on. Frankly, that list is getting damn short, but if you can’t breathe, your opinion won’t matter in a minute or two.
Is the environment going to hell?
I don’t know, I’m not sitting with a thumb up my own ass measuring parts per billion in greenhouse gasses every year. I trust the people who do, though. They know enough to think they’re not full of hot air and convince other smart people of the same. They know more about it than I do. I’d rather prep and look stupid than get stuck with the bill when it comes due. If you think it doesn’t matter then you can bend over and shove your head up your own ass. That’s my life you’re gambling with.
Another thing- guns and health care. One side says the constitution means this, the other says it really means that. I say it was written by a bunch of clever and treacherous old white men before slavery was a hot issue. Somehow I don’t think AK47s, terrorists, the Internet, or Medicare played into the grand plan of a bunch of almost-deists stuck on the east coast with muskets and another British invasion looming over the horizon.
That paper is a vital part of our history, but it’s a set of guidelines. If the numbers don’t add up, we should talk and re-write it until they do. Use your head and not that microscopic cock- it’s better at math and hopefully doesn’t get tired after two minutes of actual work.
Hunter S. Thompson suggested marking your path by who you are instead of what you want to be. If you’re good at fighting, be a boxer, if you’re not, don’t waste your time with the headache. There’s easier ways to find a few scraps of glory.
We’re not a perfect society, never have been. We’re a steaming mass half full of racists, sexists, and pretentious assholes that can’t make it through the day without pissing each other off. Fine, let’s piss each other off, at least it’ll be fun to watch.
We do have to live together, and unless you like the idea of half your friends sleeping on a metal slab tonight, or maybe taking the dirt nap yourself, I suggest we find a way to do it without pulling out the fireworks. I’m a vicious son of a bitch sometimes, at other times, when I feel I can afford it, I hand out a $20 for the asking. Those are strengths, and if you don’t like it then you can take a long walk off a short pier in these new cement shoes I bought you.
Your call.
If you like what you’ve read, you can find links to my most popular medium articles here.
