The Shape Of Flunk To Come
My fellow Custodians. We, or to place it more aptly, each and every one of us, you, me, he, she and everyone perplexing on the nether edges or flummoxing in the in-between, have yet to achieve greatness and from the looks of it, we never will. Instead, we have spent the better part of our productive lives in such a flux that if we were likened to particles accelerated down the long and winding tubing of a great disorienting machine we would, without doubt, find ourselves unable to smash into another producing only a long rolling series of echoing chamber farts, thus rendering another hopeful experiment detrimentally obsolete.
Our unilateral milieu has successfully allowed us to achieve completely nothing. Our disjointed efforts have nudged us an inch closer to total destruction – annihilation. We have failed in almost everything we have aimed to conquer, and I use the term “almost” loosely as if I was describing the waistline aftermath of a weekend binge on machine drilled tacos and pressure plated hamburger patties or as if I was referring to the cervical passages of a certain symbolic torch yielding old lady that has thoroughly felt the wrong ends of several pulsating rods during the apex of a disenfranchised house sex party.
We have ceded our ability to constructively wage a dialogue and we have immensely amplified our capacity for long winding uroboric monologues. Our egos, that transitory transactional hierarchical systemic contrarian apparatus has been acutely inflated to such an extent and with such violent religiosity administering only the vilest of gases into its inflammatory bowels that this exclusively combined roaming blimp-fleet of ours is surely set to crash and burn Hindenburg style over our drought and hail struck urban killing fields.
Great disasters of the past and their ominously looming presence over current events foreshadow future instabilities and a cyclic verbatim repeat of procedures and processes diligently used in detriment and universally hailed as portents of further trials and tribulations. A long solemn hand sculpting away epigraphs on our epitaphs reveals that we are set to get the same amount of rest as a
pimp pressed and repressed five dollar hooker. No mention of an afterlife, my fellow Custodians our most salient of actions have already made sure that if such a transcendental field truly exists it will be filled to the brim with the kind of daymares experienced only by the finest specimens of extra-societal schizophrenic insomniacs.
Our regressive albeit dismayingly expressive drive for tribalistic, ritualistic overtly symbolic behaviour, will continue to succeed in keeping us in line and on tow as degenerate wage-slaves. The dying pangs of our faux pas individualism, our rip-roaring declarations of credence towards the most schismatic ways of thinking, our elitist totalitarian separatist attitudes, amplified by technological implants which are marketed to us as next-gen soul emancipators will serve as nails on a coffin, kindle for a pyre and high octane dinosaur bone booster fuel for a rickety rocket dead set for the centre of the sun.
My fellow Custodians, I am standing here before you today eager to proclaim, with my hand on my heart, my feet on the ground and my mind steadfastly jammed inside climatically altered warring clouds that with the power vested to me by the state, the senate, the oligarchies of clam chowder, the almighty god, the veracious son and the holy moly spirit that, I, your resolutely elected, adversely subjected ringleader, your personally owned and condoned sugar daddy shall work relentlessly and ferociously in order to bestow upon everyone and anyone my uniformly consequential promotion of dichotomy and limiting of autonomy.
Have no doubt that I will do, exactly, completely, irrevocably what you want me to do.
My fellow Custodians, accept your severance and remember: The enemy is out there!
Link for the wise: