My fellow Americans:
Sometimes, you just have to cut the crap about faith and hope and progress and this land being your land and the perfectability of man and the enormous potential of clean coal and just spit it out, with the emphasis on the spit. Word.
As a species we distinguish ourselves through-- besides our eagerness to kill so many unknown, unencountered, unthreatening members of our own species-- our affliction with addictions and our addiction to afflictions. Word.
Nothing gives us more pleasure than satisfying our own addictions, but seeing some poor sot suffering miserably, unable to satisfy his or hers comes in a close second. Word.
We are not only participants we are observers... and from a distance, what is easier, more interesting, diverting, riveting, than seeing others like- but not- us suffering endlessly, miserable in the grips of.... whatever. Who really cares? Now that's entertainment. Word.
From a distance, I mean. Distance being the critical word. Word. As in don't come too close; do not touch; keep off the grass; God forbid we should get any of that, of them on us. You know what I mean? I know you know what I mean.
Speaking of god-- there isn't one, or two, or many, but god is, and is all powerful because god is affliction and addiction all rolled up into one... the Big One, the Universal One, the All of Us One... which accounts for all the violence associated with religion. It makes no sense, ergo let's go out and kill. God bless you.
It, religion, is us at our best, inflicting ourselves on each other, complete with afflictions and addictions, and getting some of us on each of us in the name of god. Word. Oh happy, and holy, day. Oh most perfect, supreme, sanctified anti-species being.
That's how I see it. Of course, I also think that history is a play acted by fools for the enjoyment of cynics. And vice-versa. Waiting for Godot? And what about Godot? What's he waiting for? And why is he delayed? They pretend Godot is going or coming, but can't tell which, and he plays along by pretending to even exist.
Pretending, pretense.... pretension. That's another one of our distinguishing characteristics, along with species slaughter, and addiction.
Speaking of species, this is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Charles Darwin and Darwin never said evolution was smart, or progressive, or better-- just that it is adaptive. Evolution, unlike god, really is and like god, is mindless, bloody, ignorant and often a mistake. But tough to stop.
That's something else we are, adaptive. We can move our afflictions and our addictions and our anti-species being species all over the globe and soon enough other planets, which for their own sake should be more than uninhabitable, they need to be downright hostile so that we will move on with our afflictions and addictions, gods, history, drama, evolution, needs, and leave them peacefully barren.
So there you have it. And so do I. Please don't think that I hold myself apart, exempt myself from this dismal science that is we, us, you, me... humanity.
Speaking of humanity, what was it the radio announcer said, collapsing in tears as the Hindenburg lit itself up over New Jersey-- "Oh the humanity"? Right. Oh the humanity, ladies and gentlemen. Which is why we thrill to watching that particular piece of newsreel time and time again, wondering about the humanity trapped in that furnace. Give us the spectacular "accident," and we're plowing through the Kleenex like disappointed heirs at the reading of a will. But as for the daily, programmed murder that makes up our waking hours.... whatever. Word.
Anyway that's it. That's you and me and us and we. And that's why, right now, I've got to stop-- take a time out, attend to my addiction to affliction and vice-versa, cooking up this little dose of brown powder that came all the way from Afghanistan, and synching up the podcasts I have of the Jerry Springer show. Don't get too close, I wouldn't want to get any of me on you. Word.
sartesian@earthlink.net
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