Anybody can say anything really, can’t they? Anybody can say anything, but that doesn’t mean that they should do. It certainly doesn’t mean that they should do. I was trying to console myself with this thought but it wasn’t helping me very much. It wasn’t easing my pain any and that’s what I wanted more than anything else – something to ease my pain. The absolute implacable incorrigible stupidity of the human race has always been a mystery to me. Where is the need for it, after all? Where’s the bloody need for it? Do we think someone’s going come up to us at some point and give us a medal for it? For our exemplary stupidity in face of all the odds that are stacked up against us. We live in a universe that is made up of pure intelligence and we have managed to make shit of it. We’ve made shit of ourselves, anyway.
I’m not trying say that I’m exempt from the immense planet-wide malign stupidity of which I speak. How could I be exempt from it? That stupidity lives within me and it thrives. It thrives mightily. It’s doing very well, thank you. It’s doing splendidly, and so I suppose we should give it credit for that. Credit where credit’s due, after all. As long as the Great Malignancy is doing well that’s got to count for something, surely. I tell you one thing for nothing though – I might be a slave to the crappy old malignancy the same as everyone else is but that doesn’t mean that I have to take kindly to them. I know just how low they have fallen you see – I have that particular insight. They can’t pull the wool over my eyes – as cunning in the art of deception as they might be. They can’t fool me because I am them. I wrote the goddamn book.
Sharing a disease is such an intimate thing, is it not? That’s the type of terrible intimacy which I have with the human race – the intimacy of a shared disease. It’s so very intimate, but not in a pleasant way however. We might naively imagine that this shared basic experience could lead to a breaking down of barriers, the growth of tolerance and mutual understanding, but that’s not the way it works at all. It’s very far from being the way that it works. We’ve all had occasion to notice how very cruel people can be to each other and this is the reason – we hold each other in a little regard as we do ourselves. Just as we despise ourselves, so too do we despise our fellow men. And let there be no doubt on this score, please. We do despise ourselves. There is absolutely no way in which we can serve the malignancy without also at the same time despising ourselves. The malignancy would not be the malignancy otherwise.
We are like fleas swarming across the land – infesting both the hills and the valleys. We hop incessantly, senselessly. There is no sense in our constant frenetic hopping, none at all, but it’s all we know how to do. We have to make do with our senseless hopping because it’s all that we have. We don’t even have any interest in getting smarter either – all we want is to be able to carry on bouncing around like fools! Bouncing is great, we say. Everyone has to bounce. Bouncing will solve all life’s problems. Tell us to bounce some more… Tell us that it is National Bouncing Day and tell us that there will be fireworks, and we will proceed to bounce ourselves sick…
What a terrible thing it is to have to make our way through life without even the slightest bit of sense! Without even a trace of it. What a cruel ordeal that is. We manage – after a fashion – but for all the wrong reasons. We manage to get from the cradle to the grave but we make the journey without grace and without dignity. Because we have no sense, we have to let the Malignancy tell us what to do. ‘Society’, as some blandly call it. The filthy malignancy that is a society will tell us what to do for sure, but it’s not for our benefit. It was never was for our benefit. We serve the Dark Master and the Dark Master never paid anyone a fair wage. That wouldn’t be his style now, would it? What does society ever teach us, apart from how to disregard ourselves, how to despise ourselves, and how to make complete fools of ourselves?
