Thursday, January 9, 2014

Aye, Cap'n Suh...

The Solstice comes, the Solstice goes...  Christmas comes, Christmas goes...  The new year comes, the old year passes into the forgotten...  Santa Claus doesn't come, except in some young hearts and minds, but overall, no jolly old fat man wearing a red suit...  Oh, there was the usual wanton consumption, consumerism, commercialism, corporatism, fueled by selfishness and greed, with the usual scrooges counting their coins, while the modern-day cratchets  go hungry, the Tiny Tims suffer, the drunks and junkies shiver on skid rows across the land, and the shallow, self-absorbed louts in between busy themselves with their own little plans and desires... The preacher-man stands at the pulpit, in his Armani suit, and blathers about something he read in a book while the congregation raptly donates pennies to the coffer...  They all feel good about themselves for a minute, comfortable in their delusions, while the homeless couple wrap their children tighter in their thin feeble blanket and pray they survive another night.  This is America.  And Santa Clause didn't come.
Dichotomy of haves and have-nots...

I had the flu for Christmas, followed by bronchitis, and then pneumonia. I did not even come close to almost cutting my hair, though.  I can't smoke a cigarette.  I want one, very much in fact, I just can't smoke them anymore.  While I once had that privilege, I abused it so drastically, so frightfully, to such a degree that I no longer have it available as an option, not if I want to survive much longer.

Though I suffer routinely from suicidal ideations, I do not relish the thought of meeting Death on Death's terms.  I do not wish to die a long and painful death, plugged into machines, hoses entering and exiting my body, nor do I wish to starve, or drown, or suffocate, or aspirate my own vomit.  Still, we all die eventually, one way or another.  I'd rather die fighting against tyranny than die a slave.

I can elaborate ad infinitum, and after my tirade the results would be the same.  If I succumb to depression and end my life by my own hand, then it all becomes moot. - Everything I ever believed in, everything I ever worked towards, all my hopes and dreams, all my opinions... Everything, moot and pointless.  Life no more significant than a football game.

I don't know how it will all end, or what hopes and dreams may or may not come to fruition.  I know that I don't want it to all be for nought.  If there is no meaning, then what's the point?  Does humanity even deserve betterment?  Are we worthy of something more than just groveling for subsistence?  Or are we simply a parasitic disease, a blight on the face of Mother Earth, devouring all in our path and leaving scorched and used-up soil in our wake, a snake of shit to mark the snail's trail of desolation.
Some would say there is bitterness in my words.  Should there not be?

Do we deserve to evolve to the next level?  We who have a history of murdering one another and our fellow creatures, we who tend to use up resources wantonly and spew toxic pollution with willful disregard for future generations, we who take-take-take and give nothing back, we who nearsightedly perceive ourselves as the height of Creation and the center of the Universe.... How dare we be so presumptuous?

And so the outsiders come, the offworlders, the dark overlords, the visitors, the archons, whatever you choose to label them, alien or guest, friend or foe, angel or demon...  They have been with us a long time now, a very long time, as we perceive time, and they bring with them their own dogma, their own set of rules, their own agenda.  I can't say for certain just what their agenda is, but you can bet your ass that it is whatever most benefits them, not us.  ...And we sit around making memes about fuzzy-wuzzy kittycats, Y U No's, and "rage comix"....  Wasting every spare moment engaged in one selfish persuit or another, watching meaningless television drivel, discussing partisan politics, arguing over whose god will kick whose ass... That is, those of us "lucky" enough to have time to think about any of that, those of us not preoccupied with surviving another day.  "Where will my next piece of food come from? Will there be shelter tonight? Will the sun rise tomorrow?"  If my biggest concern is will there be enough half-n-half for the coffee in the morning, then who and what the hell am I?  What have I done to help mankind today, or for the benefit of Mother Earth?  And if I cannot immediately answer, then I need to stop thinking about I for a minute. Aye, I Eye!  Oooh...

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