When people talk to me I tend to look at them in a funny kind of a way. ‘Very good – you are saying the thing’, I tell them. I nod at them encouragingly. I don’t really have a clue what they’re up to to. I never have the correct emotional response. I have eyes on stalks.
Maybe we’re not human beings at all but lobsters. Maybe Jordan Peterson was right? Did you ever think of that? Did you ever think of that? We think that we’re all so damn clever don’t we? Don’t you ever get sick of it – meeting people who are apparently so damn clever the whole time? Yapping like fools. Mouthing off out of them the whole time. ‘Just shut up,’ you’d like to say. ‘Please just shut up…’
The street is full of lobsters. Your workplace is full of lobsters, snapping at each irritably. Threatening each other with their giant pincers. The dance of the lobsters, that’s what it is. The dance of the lobstrosities. Maybe we’re not human beings at all – did you ever think of that? It’s a common delusion of course. It’s a popular misapprehension. ‘We are human beings,’ we chorus in unison. ‘I’m an actual real person,’ I say, waving my pincers about. ‘I’m going to give someone a pinch, sure as eggs is eggs. You bet I am…
Lobsters, lobsters, lobsters – huh? What are you going to do? Where are you going to turn? There’s nowhere to turn so you might as well not bother. There’s a story that we are actually real human beings but you don’t want to be giving that any heed. We are all lobsters with suits on, lobsters in high heels, and that’s the long and the short of it.
Have you ever noticed that when we communicate all we do is project limitations? All we do is indirectly assert limitations whilst ingeniously pretending that we are breaking new ground. We pretend that we are ‘reaching out there’; we pretend that we’re probing the universe, seeking to explore its mysteries. A noble endeavour, wouldn’t you say? Let’s all engage in noble ventures. Why not, after all? Why wouldn’t we?
We shut everything down whilst claiming to be engaged in open enquiry. The perennial pursuit – closing reality down. Shutting it down, shutting it down. Shut the door on your way out, wouldn’t you? What were you, born in a barn? What are you, some kind of fool? You have to put up with the mockery of your peers then, you see – you have to put up with the unceasing mockery of your highly-respected peers.
Maybe we are all frobsters, did you ever think of that? We think we’re so damn clever. We think we’re so damn clever because we invented Superman. Because we invented mouse pads, because we invented hair conditioner. Maybe we are all frobsters, did you wink at that? We think we’re on TV, playing to the gallery, but we’re not. We think we’re live-streaming, deep into the subtleties of ethnographic research, but that’s not true. We’ve become who we were supposedly studying – we’ve gone native, we’ve lost the plot.
There is no plot. We think we know where it’s going – we don’t see the twist. The twist is that there is no twist, the twist is that there is no plot, no story-line. There’s just a babble of voices. Always, always, always – just a babble of voices. And the ominous clacking of pincers. You mustn’t forget the ominous clacking of pincers….
Art – Lobstosity, by SylverWynd on deviantart.com