Well, my brother. Who do we embrace?

Posted on May 7, 2020

May 7, 2020

Well, my brother. Who do we embrace?


"Thus death, this most potent imaginative idea and reality that doesn't exist except as a mystery about which anything we say is speculation, can be used for good and evil, depending on who controls society."

1)   I say, simply, that living has a 100% fatality rate. I'm perfectly at ease with that, and, in some fashion, it's comforting. It means I get to take all those sumbich, conniving, predatory, false-hearted sh*t waffles with me, when I finally cop my whack. And all their thieving, plundering, exploitation of other people's trust, naivety, and generosity,  (in the short run of Man's little strut & pose on this planet), won't bring them any lasting advantage. At all. Knickers. Just short term vanity. A tired moth's burp in the hurricane. A dying wasp's wing beat. Their philosophy, (that they are too dumb & brutish to even be able to verbalize),  is as morally shallow as it is pitifully transparent.
"He who dies with the most toys, wins."
"He who dies with the best binary digital score in the bank's mainframe computer, dies happiest."
"He who huffs & puffs with the biggest, hardest d*ck, and gets all the wimmin, must be the smartest kid on the block – ENVY HIM++++"

2)  So if we brush off the common, short term, cost-what-cost, dog-devour-dog, backs-are-for-stabbing, then what, pray, is left for a half decent philosophy?
Aha. Now it gets interesting.
I find myself a curious spectator in the peanut gallery,  watching this mass table-tennis tournament being hammered out in front of me. Ideas, philosophies, theologies, assertions, claimed truths, obvious humbug, and transparent, pass-the-plate, shake-down ploys sizzle through the air. Like so many, madly swotted ping-pong balls. It's neat to watch. And throw peanut shells at. It's the earnest, straight-faced, plastic candor that's so funny. A lot of these shallow plonkers really think we hang on their every word.  Egocentric and deluded, they exhibit an un-amazing knack of -tearfully- professing to absolutely believe their own bovine fertilizer.  Our healthy skepticism is a starting point.

After that, I dislike the thought of ANY bast*rd trying to 'control' society, and dictate how we think. Threats of death & damnation, eternal hell fire and no-more-sex, well, tough cheddar, too bad. I remain unmoved. Unimpressed, too. Show me the evidence. Show me the love. Show me your wallet, maybe, too. I don't WANT any of it, but I'd cynically like to know how much YOU made out of your heavenly sh*t.

On the positive side, I do rather like THIS attached meme. I can use it to illustrate my deep respect for that which I maybe strongly sense to be true, but am unwilling to (arrogantly) present to you in a few, conceited paragraphs. Pretending I possess some amazing knowledge , far above yours. For I do not.

Rock on. If you and I are worthy, my brother, I suspect we shall meet again.

Until then?  Easy. Pen or sword, or both, give 'em hell.

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