Tuesday, November 15

Fuck You

We live in a country run by the lowest common denominator. From the time one enters the "no child left behind...or pushed ahead" public school system to the time one becomes old enough to go to a shitty bar and watch reruns of shitty shows like "The War at Home" and "Dharma and Greg", one is constantly pressured not to exceed. We push the levels of low brow mediocrity. We strive to blend in with the herd, to stifle ourselves, and to be like every other slack-jawed idiot.
Fuck that.
This blog has largely appealed to the lowest common denominator. Although I use big words so you idiots can feel smart while finally putting that dictionary your crazy aunt gave to you on your twelfth birthday to use, the subject matter has been sexist, homophobic, racist, and rarely funny. It's low brow.
Fuck that.
It's so much easier to be destructive than creative. Although as a writer I adopt a voice who has a rather cavalier attitude toward everything and acts like a lackadaisical scofflaw, I can get away with it because I'm being tongue-in-cheek. But do you know that? No. You fucking sycophants think it's funny. You think villifying others somehow makes you feel better.
Fuck that.
I want to be emulated, yes. Everyone does. But not for this shit. Not for my "Rosa Parks died...did they bury her in the back of the cemetery?" jokes. Not for getting completely shitfaced at 7:30 in the evening with Scary Adam and cackling while he forces a random passerby to his knees by humping him. I want to be emulated because I'm better than you low brow fucks.
After this post, I will be taking an indefinite hiatus as the Angry Drunken Irishman. Although his voice has helped me get rid of a lot of anger in an easy manner and has helped me masturbate my ego by garnering accolades from people who aren't brave enough to put themselves on this kind of pedestal, I don't need him. He's there, yes. His Steppenwolf-esque brooding presence will remain, but I'm better than he is.
I'll leave you with some of Goethe's words for this. The following comes from the prelude to Faust:

Oh, speak no more of motley crowds to me
their very presence makes my spirits flee.
Veil from my sight those waves and surges
that suck us down into their raging pools.
Take me rather to a quiet little cell
where pure delight blooms only for the poet,
where our inmost joy is blessed and fostered
by love and friendship and the hand of God.
What gleams like tinsel is but for the moment.
What's true remains intact for future days.

Maybe I've finally grown up, or maybe I'm just being even more immature. But I'm better than this, and so are you.
Click this shit!

1 Bullshit Responses:

Anonymous Anonymous left the following bullshit...

I dig it...although I don't think anyone will get the excerpt. Looking forward to a new blog.

6:30 PM  

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