There’s a colored gentleman I keep seeing at an intersection who purports to have discovered what white people would call an “organic” cure for cancer. He also claims that the Russians have killed certain members of his family and also want him dead.
From one crazy person to another, I’d advise him to simply get himself a website like I did, instead of holding up posterboards in the sun, but we just wave at each other. I’ve learned to respect the grind, so he earned his in my view of the world. Yesterday, I caught myself wondering if there was a Russian assassin already lurking in town preparing an operation to silence this hero.
Perhaps he actually does have a cure for cancer, all that I really know is that this place called America has an elixir for anyone’s sanity. The trigger that springs open a trap door to the madness below is the noticing of things. Indeed, the irrepressible habit of noticing things and then wondering about their implication or trying to place them in some broader context is unhelpful to navigating life unperturbed by ongoing or impeding disaster. I suffer from this condition, which I would define as reality-induced psychological distress.
Suffers of this condition are often labeled as “conspiracy theorists.” I feel this is a pejorative, much like calling someone who is mentally disabled “retarded” but that’s a digression. In their own heads, victory after victory is scored, while in reality such internal triumphs change nothing. The real purpose is to confirm their own biases while everyone else around them seems to recognize zero and does their best to induce diabetes with every gulp taken.
I wish there could be an island designated exclusively for us, like they used to do with leper colonies. We’d also get free binoculars to watch eagerly for the flames from afar along with platters of snacks on toothpicks and an open bar. You, see? I’m getting myself off track again. Idealism is a comorbidity to my condition.
By idealism, I mean possessing the basic imaginative capability to infer that we don’t have to live this way. You can have something other than what’s right in front of you. Just this notion will trouble you quite far enough. The expectation might be your demise.
Attendant to this malady is that we can observe at any given time how far things have deteriorated because we’re able to reference something that’s not right in front of us. For example, I can watch a homosexual address the Democratic National Convention and ask the state of Georgia how it casts its vote in his lisp to signal a rapper’s surprise performance.
Simultaneously, I can recall that such events used to be conducted with decorum, realize that nothing of any validity or intellectual value will be discussed the entire time, project that the situation will get worse from here for a set of reasons, and wonder if this country would be better off nuked by Vladimir Putin.
In the same moment, I will feel the urge to drink, remember I need to do yard work when I get home, and make a mental note to stop by the ghetto supermarket where I can purchase Steel Reserve since I refrain from hard liquor on the mower. I’m an adult and adults are responsible. I can’t remember who said that, but somebody did.
Meanwhile, a Republican would say to himself that we had Hulk Hogan do the RNC, so the libs were owned, and forget about the brown voodoo religion woman giving the prayer who could start her own cholera epidemic if she forgot to use a toilet.
I grew up watching wrestling, and I was never a Hulk Hogan fan because he just didn’t move the needle with me in any direction. My favorites were always Stone Cold and the Undertaker. The only time I found him interesting was when he joined the NWO. That was a great plot twist, and everyone was talking about it at school the next day.
If you watch this clip and you have some decades of American decline under your belt, look at how normally all of the proles in the audience conducted themselves. Many of the males are appareled in what I once quipped to my old man was his “boomer casual” outfit: jeans, tucked t-shirt, trucker cap (he didn’t find this even remotely amusing). Were some of them on coke? Sure. Drunk? Oh yeah.
Still, they weren’t raised on legalized speed fed to them so they could pay attention at school. Also, most of them were taking their kids to the show, since they were married to their kids’ mom and that’s what dads did with the older kids back then while the mom stayed home with the littler ones. The 80’s and 90’s were like the 1950’s compared to now.
These same proles just two or three generations removed are now basically mutants. If they have a female, she has at least one nostril pierced, and they should thank their lucky stars it isn’t the full hog ring. Moreover, they don’t have the attention span to even sit through a wrestling match probably even with the cocktail of drugs everybody is on. All the while, I wrestle with my thoughts of the imminent total collapse while I go about my business with a pleasant demeanor or at least a dead look on my face.
It wasn’t until I started writing on the internet that I realized just how many of us are out there. Don’t expect any drug commercials on TV about a pill or non-surgical option to fix our condition, though. That’s all I have for today. Writing on the internet doesn’t clean out my gutters.
I’m proud to officially announce my candidacy for the office of Dogcatcher.
What a choice, huh? A loud-mouthed New Yorker versus a silly California whore.
Such a good article. I can relate fren.
Just close your eyes, lie back, and think of all the throats you’ll have to slit instead of saving for a retirement. In a Tribes 2 CTF server, of course. Not real life. Have another steelie on me, bud.
The movie “Idiocracy” was prophetic. Or were “They” just telling us what direction their manipulations were going to go.