The country is run by 14 year old girls.
The state of politics is embarrassing in a way that would make even Nero's asshole pucker. I guarantee that were that particular emperor around today, even his fiddle finger would've hit a sour note as he wrote an evolving soundtrack for our slow and sure descent into history's long list of failed experiments.
This country is run by 14 year old girls. Accustomed to the rag and literally raised into the clique culture, unaccustomed to responsibility or accountability or trust or kindness. Utterly and devastatingly stupid about any topic that isn't celebrity or money. Functionally illiterate, and religious in the way that occupies the absolute dumbest corners of that particular arena of dumb.
Sometimes I think I need counseling because I watch the news so much, and run through the mental circles of considering modern politics, and it's positively numbing. This, though, is truly the fate of my generation and several generations past. An engineered silence and stillness in the face of positively surmountable obstacles that would be conquered by any momentary, massive retaliation or protest. The method of appeasement has simply evolved (ironic given that the ideology I fight doesn't believe in evolution). We are now told that blogs are a viable form of protest.
Obviously I perform a contradiction when I say this, but life is a series of those so fuck it. This blog cannot change minds. A blog cannot be counted in the good column of the grand checklist of What I've Done To Make Things Better. But when my mind reaches to ponder what I actually could do that would make a difference in the ways people think, the things people say without realizing it - my mind immediately goes to New Orleans. I return home, as is natural and expected. And I immediately sink. I'm from a place that most of you on the Internet and everyone in the real world is allowing to disappear, and quickly. Because it's not a sexy news story. Because it's not a stupid starlet whore nearly crashing into some dumb bitch while wearing pants pocket-loaded with fine cocaine.
And it just doesn't make me angry, or cold, or impassioned, or motivated. It just kills me.
This country is run by 14 year old girls. Accustomed to the rag and literally raised into the clique culture, unaccustomed to responsibility or accountability or trust or kindness. Utterly and devastatingly stupid about any topic that isn't celebrity or money. Functionally illiterate, and religious in the way that occupies the absolute dumbest corners of that particular arena of dumb.
Sometimes I think I need counseling because I watch the news so much, and run through the mental circles of considering modern politics, and it's positively numbing. This, though, is truly the fate of my generation and several generations past. An engineered silence and stillness in the face of positively surmountable obstacles that would be conquered by any momentary, massive retaliation or protest. The method of appeasement has simply evolved (ironic given that the ideology I fight doesn't believe in evolution). We are now told that blogs are a viable form of protest.
Obviously I perform a contradiction when I say this, but life is a series of those so fuck it. This blog cannot change minds. A blog cannot be counted in the good column of the grand checklist of What I've Done To Make Things Better. But when my mind reaches to ponder what I actually could do that would make a difference in the ways people think, the things people say without realizing it - my mind immediately goes to New Orleans. I return home, as is natural and expected. And I immediately sink. I'm from a place that most of you on the Internet and everyone in the real world is allowing to disappear, and quickly. Because it's not a sexy news story. Because it's not a stupid starlet whore nearly crashing into some dumb bitch while wearing pants pocket-loaded with fine cocaine.
And it just doesn't make me angry, or cold, or impassioned, or motivated. It just kills me.