Sign of the Times

I can’t believe what people are like, I really can’t. They get born, they take a shit, and then the next thing is they think that they know everything. Isn’t that away? Tell me that that isn’t the way. Just what the fuck has the world come to? How much more can life be fast tracked? Is there any limit at all to this bullshit? Life has never been any easier – there’s nothing to it. There really is nothing to it! Nothing at all. No substance whatsoever. You get born, you take a dump, and – bingo – you’re a fucking expert! You’ve arrived. Can you believe that? I’m telling you, that’s what I’m coming up against every day. I’m coming up against that every day and I’m just thinking to myself, WTF?” You get popped out, you do a poop, and then the next thing is that you know it all. End of story. I wish I could say that there’s more to it than this but there really isn’t. That’s why I’m so incredulous at the state of the human race. That’s why I’m scratching my head thinking ‘Did I miss something?’ For God’s sake. You get to know it all, you get to be the goddamn expert, and then you can wear some nice smart clothes, get your hair done, get to look as sharp as you possibly can and – bingo! – there you are. That’s what it’s all about. What else could it be about? Your outfit says so much about you, after all. It’s says everything about you – doesn’t it, though? In fact, you are your outfit. You are your hairdo. That’s all there is. And then you can walk down the corridor with that expression on your face. You know the expression. It’s the one that says, as loud as you like, “I’m up my own hole!” I’m right up there. All the way.  So where do you go from there? What’s left after that? You’ve arrived. You can just keep on walking up and down the corridor for the rest of your working life with that expression stuck to your face. That expression that informs the world that you are up your own hole. All the way up your own hole. You don’t know that, of course. You think that your constipated expression is conveying something else. God alone knows what you think it is conveying! God alone knows. I certainly don’t. I mean, this is absolutely staggering – what exactly do you think the message is that you are busy broadcasting to the world? That’s what I’d like to ask them. I’d like to stop them as they’re walking down the corridor and ask them. I’d like to encourage them to articulate the message behind the expression that they all have. Just so it can make a little bit more sense to me. They get born, they take a shit, and then they know it all. That’s what it’s like, isn’t it? Tell me if I’m wrong. Tell me I’m being unnecessary cantankerous, or something like that. Go on, I dare you. I know you won’t though. I know that you won’t because I know you know that I’m right…








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