The Introduction
Sometimes life doesn’t make sense. This is my critique of “life on life’s terms.” To confuse reality as being the way it ought to be inherently invites injustice and apathy. Thus, and keep in mind here that I admittedly suffer from mental illness, I can’t understand why I am not allowed to point out the insanity of the world around me without being locked up and forcibly injected with Haldol. It seems amiss of free speech to not allow me to say things, uh... ‘freely,’ especially as what I offer is merely my way of seeing society as I relate to it through out my life. I’m not a big believer in violence as a means of revolution on a personal level, nor do I think it is generally much more than an excuse to kill when embraced in a ideological fashion. I once had a friend who was peacefully part of the largely peaceful Egyptian Revolution point out that after Democratic elections were rejected by the military, some of the fighters for malitias were from the Irish Republican Army. This didn’t seem to make sense from his view. However I suspect we both knew that they were just looking for reasons to kill due to a lull in violent upheaval over on their Islands at the time. This doesn’t mean I don’t see a reason for national defense or violence as a means to political ends. It just means that’s not the goal of this manifesto.
What is the goal of this manifesto? Infamy? Sex? Wealth? IDK. A nice job would be nice. However, I’m merely trying to explain how I see the world; with possibly some sloppy ideas for reforming some of the social problems I pointed out. This is a meta-analysis for manifesting changes in social psychology mostly. That’s why it’s called a Manifesto. I promise I won’t shoot anyone when I’m done writing this. It’s at least highly unlikely this is headed in that direction at this time. I’m too fat with a bad left knee anyway. I hardly remember to take the garbage out Monday night, and last week forgot to do it completely. I just don’t have that kind of motivation or follow through. Killing a lot of people sounds like way too much work and planning, especially as someone prone to obsessive perfectionism to the point of no actual execution. There will be no executions of executives in my manifesto. Sorry to disappoint my readers. You may abandon this now. Or am I just hiding something sinister in the sea of madness I am about to vomit forth into my keyboard and your screen?
Chapter 1
The Manifesto of a Black Out Alcoholic
With so much having gone wrong in my life, what should I start out with on what is wrong with the world? I suppose myself. The most glaring of character defects I have is a previous desire to obliterate my consciousness with substances such as alcohol and pot to shut my brain down. What was so wrong with consciousness that I felt the need to obliterate it? Well, for one, there is the fact that life is painful. There is the literal sense of pain, of which my left knee is a constant source of at this point in my late 40’s. However, what got me into drinking and pot was that it was a means to escape never ending anxiety and depression. I don’t think it’s possible to eliminate the horrible sensations from the individuals that feed into social psychology. I certainly don’t believe in just letting god sort it out either though, as that is just some sort of toxic positivity where deep down I know bad shit will happen and eventually life will cease to exist as I care to know it. It’s not just the big picture issues like war and genocide, either. I was hardly exposed to much in the way of that. Personally, I think my madness stems from how people treat each other, in a moment of time that is just a few Plank’s intervals among an awesomely lengthy segment of time we all don’t want to admit isn’t infinite and nearing some ends.
The way the human mind develops puts us into the perspective that life is all about us, and then we are exposed to other children. Shit goes down real fast sometime around middle school for almost everyone. By then, we’ve had close friends and family die, which shakes our sense of safety into recognizing our own mortality and personal imperfections. People think kids need delusional hope, like Jesus, heaven, and stories of hobbits. We know that shit isn’t real, except maybe hobbits; we have all seen a few grown people our height by early childhood. Despite this, our teachers and other adults we look up to in society are often afraid to point out that fantasy is just that, including the Christian mythology that our nation embraces to pretend to believe. So I guess we’ll start chapter 1 on the topic of religion, spirituality, and other toxic coping mechanisms for ‘life on life’s terms’ and death that we pretend are healthy. I’d like to see less of a demand that people believe each other’s bullshit, especially children. Various ideological perspectives agree with and have issues with this, depending on whether it is their bullshit or someone else’s that they demand be accepted. Man is not bound to any concept of god, especially as the word looses any meaning by the lack of a universal definition we can agree to. Religion is merely post modern story telling, like Paul Bunyan or any other mythology one religion pretends separates their ‘truth’ from another person’s myth’stical bullshit. If you hate LGTBQ people because your ‘god’ tells you too, I question why you feel the need to differ to your IF; your imaginary friend as an expert of morality juxtaposed to your own sense of values reflected in emotional morality and cognitive ethics. If you simply don’t think a man wearing a dress is a woman because he declares it, you might though, be open to my understanding one shouldn’t be able to demand others pretend to believe what you are pretending to believe. My objection to trying to enforce our imagination into knowingly false communication by others may be something we can agree on.
Relating this back to the start of this chapter, I get that brain damage from drugs makes us mentally handicap. I’m pretty sure that we are all mentally handicapped, and it must be lonely for those that don’t. The associated disconnection between one’s observation of reality and the dissonance between what others pretend to perceive could definitely be a good excuse to drink and get high. Are they crazy and/or stupid or is it me? How much confidence should I have that everyone else is wrong and I am right? When I seek out a minority others who agree with me, isn’t that a problem? Aren’t I just self actualizing the social legitimacy of my perceptions rather than verifying any sort of objective reality? Ugh, and in the end, all I can be sure of is that I think I think, so I think I exist. Everything from there is a leap of faith, so why can’t Jesus be the son of a god born to a virgin? Who am I to say this is fiction? IDK. I just know that’s a really psychotic belief and I’m not sure why we are socially censored from saying the quiet part out loud.
Complicating things is that everyone is flawed and determined to be the greatest genetic specimen to reproduce with the perfect partner, and it’s just the other side of the coin to dealing with death. We all die. Eventually all life on earth dies. Much smarter people than me seem to think there are good odds the universe runs out of time and energy in it’s own right. How do I know they are smarter than me? Not college. Sometimes they went to one for a while, but I’ve seen some of them invent clever shit. Maybe they are just more clever then me. It’s the best I have for now though. Does it mean that there is no ‘void’ that we return to, just the absence of existence in the end. Uhm. A void is an absence of existence, so yeah, we can’t go back to being literally nothing. Nothing doesn’t exist, and my matter returning to the universe is hardly affirming to my desire to not die. Even if a new universe outside ours develops, we are gone. We are sacks of meat walking around temporarily on our way to non-existance and no amount of offspring or appeal to a deity will change that. So I’m anxious… all the time. It’s my natural state of being, and eventually alcohol and pot wouldn’t even turn that off. They just sped it up.
Joker's Wild 