What more proof do we need that we are barely peeking out of the Dark Ages than this: Take a look at all of the upright citizens standing around with good posture who still remember slavery fondly.
Slavery was a staple of the Dark Ages that is hard to deny, although it frequently is. That is not selective memory that is fact. It occurred all over, over thousands of years, millions of miles, loads of dirt and sand, no shit. It never was what you think it was and never will be. It still is.
A lot of people with their own set of facts that only make sense to them would like to shoot you if you think they’re wrong.
Many of those who would like to shoot you don’t want to hear about it, or listen to a bunch of claptrap about it. Shooting is a right that trumps other rights that get in the fucking way. Get it? You’d better.
When these upright types listen too much to those who don’t get it, it makes them angry. The word that used to be commonly used in that context was ‘mad’, which is obviously a better and more accurate word, but that’s what happens when the truth becomes lost in the agglomeration process of life and life only, tit for tat, as we sort of know it.
Anger often passes, while madness often does not. Good reasons are hard to find. Unless, perhaps, you believe in miracles. Or puppy dog tails. Action figures and religious figures, too.
Just because we are beginning to come out of the Dark Ages, though, is no reason to expect a lot. These things take time. A thousand years is standard.
That jowly guy from the NRA sure looks mad to me every time I see his face come around. Don’t tell me you don’t know which one I’m talking about.
Slavery, which thrived with whips and chains, always reached every higher levels of transcendence when the master held a gun in his hand. Especially with double barrels and an itchy finger. It was likely the same finger that scratched at those hemorhoids.
Not even absolutist gun nuts believe they are going to live the thousand years it will take to reap the juicy fruits they deserve for being right all that time, no matter what Jesus or his cronies come up with, which includes all those heavenly virgins, but they intend to stick to the same sad song until the end, no matter what. That NRA man with the extra set of jowls says, “You don’t like it, tough shit. I have a gun and you don’t.”
Patience, it is often said, and not unwisely, is not only a virtue but also a boon to increased regularity, decreased hemorrhoidal heartache, (the kind that itches), and good REM. Its absence, however, in conjunction with a myriad of false beliefs and potions, contributes mightily to the general uptick in blood pressure, genital warts, disconnected sinew and tissue, obesity, and sub-par consciousness.
But I know I can’t wait forever. Time runs out even as it speeds ahead. Or some some inexplicable shit like that.
And I also know I’m not getting saved by any plastic action figure that comes out of a comic book written by some nebbishy Jew from Philadelphia.
So what do we do in the meantime besides dig ditches, assume positions, form committees, make decisions, take attendance, name names?
Duck and cover? Fuck a duck? Go in costume? Blow noses? Connect links? Bury treasures? Raise children? Hang out the wash? Snuggle up close. And fuck another duck?
I want to know how many animals are out there? How many are endangered? I know I am. I often like to believe in whatever whacko shit that comes into my head. How much longer can it be before I make some mad guy madder? I would be an easy target. For an animal I run pretty slow.
I know otters are endangered even though they’re so cute. And we won’t delve into the real story of what happened to Bambi.
Please don’t tell me to smell the bacon.
What about me and the rest of you who are not so cute?
Out of Line 