Beavis and Butt-Head, Friday The 13th, Headbanger's Ball, random horror flicks...hell, whatever the hell we wanted to watch. Music, in all it's glory was made available to us. It was a great world in which to live. We didn't care about the big "real world" that most adults loved to drone on and on about. We laughed at it. We bit our thumbs at it and gave it much in the way of disrespect.
This is the way our society raised us. Look out for number one...no complications. Video games for all! Play away, kids! You're gonna be rock stars someday and we'll give you the means to do it all! Yes, that's it, here's American Gladiators! Go and watch a buncha pituitary retards fire nerf balls at the dudes Daddy works with as they try to make their ways through obstacle courses in tights and foam-rubber helmets.
Even after just about everyone I cared to spend my time with moved away to other parts of Louisiana, I spent my time loitering at the local Circle K. I had just dried out and was starting to get heavily into some of the stuff on the classic rock station. To me, the conspiracy nuts were just that...nuts. I agreed something was dreadfully wrong with the state of our political processes but it wasn't anything that extreme. There was nothing to worry about. God was taking care of everything and we could all sleep.
As most of the world slept, my friend Stu and I would hound and harass customers going into and out of Circle K. Think the owners minded? Shit no, they wanted to give us free shit for keeping their employees awake. Before Jay and Silent Bob, Damien and Stuart stood there abusing customers, especially drunks, with our droning on life, the universe, everything, songs, sayings, nothings and notations made for the Imagination Age. Imaginations were our specialty. Who gave a shit about the president getting a blowjob? Not I. I only got pissed that he lied about it and was never fired for it. Had that been any of us, you know we'd have been in the unemployment line immediately.
How was I supposed to know that we would turn into Children of The Disinformation Age? We couldn't have known but now we do.
Now, and only in grim retrospect could we understand the state of things as it had been left for us.
It felt good to sleep, then. It felt great to get lost in the euphoria of the time and live with reckless abandon.
Now, I see a world where 20-year-olds are busting their asses to reach a retirement that's well over 40 years away from where they stand now. I see them scurrying to reach it with big dreams of going fishing or doing whatever and the thing I ask is why? Why try to enjoy life when you're too damned old to do it? Is there any point to that?
Were we really designed for this? Is it possible for humans to live in such misery that they
must turn against each other and build such a ratrace as to compliment that misery? I truly do not understand you humans.
Now there are two things that, to this day, greatly disturb me. They are as follows:
1. John Denver on Compact Disc. This is the first sign we are truly doomed. If the RIAA ever gives a shit enough to sue anyone over his music, I'll officially give up on humanity altogether.
2. Misty's Cellphone.
There is simply no excuse for this...a Pink MotoRAZR...none. I still remember when this phone came out it was a beautiful aluminum-brushed silver and was an absolute work of art. When it came in black as well, I was even more enamored with this technological beauty and then it came in this faggy "Ice Blue" which was hideous. When Misty broke the news to me that she'd found one in this color, I could have cried a river of blood. I was attempting to slash my wrists with a plastic spoon, sawing like a madman, screaming to God "MAKE IT STOP YOU CRUEL FUCK! MAKE IT FUCKING STOP YOU SON OF A BITCH! I'M IN HELL! I'M IN FUCKIN HEEEEELLLLLLL!"
I wanted answers for this. Whoever decided to come up with such an overload of this evil fucking color on a technological marvel needs to suffer the harshest prison sentence conceivable in Guantanamo Bay. This is nothing short of terrorism in it's purest form at the hands of someone far more evil than Bundy, Dahmer, Ramirez, Gacy and John Denver all put together.
Pink....fucking pink and then cotton candy pink on top of that! The nerve! The Gall! The Fucking Audacity! You know what? You want a pink MotoSLVR you can have it with my blessing...they're ugly as shit phones but why humiliate the rest of us who own a RAZR with PINK of all fuckin colors. You motherfuckers make me long to be human just so I can die of embarassment. Fucking Fluff-Bunny Sonsabitches!
RAZR implies a phone that's not only capable of putting you in touch with someone far out of your reach but can slice, dice and do all the lovely things that fucking BLADES can do, right? And just look at it's shape....sharp edges baby! Oh yeah.
THIS is what a RAZR Looks Like!
Looks sharp, kicks ass and, on a good day, I can set this fucker to "stun." No wonder they won't let me carry it at work!
But Pink...it's like that burnout fucker at the back of a Cradle of Filth concert screaming "FREEBIRD!" the world's gonna end with someone screaming that, man!
Now you see it...the very reason I have almost given up on you humans.
