Hard to believe that all those gasoline-swilling shithead suburbanites are still diligently hard at it, over the way in the “fitness center” next to the Jack In The Box. But then again, irony and pathos being such rare and virtually unknown commodities among halfwits and flapdoodlers of this sort, it isn’t really all that mysterious. Or surprising. Or particularly interesting, for that matter.
Is it just me, or is the problem of concentrating on specific issues more general and widespread? I know, that’s probably the most thoroughly ridiculous rhetorical question one can concoct, since the answer is as patently obvious as global warming and Republican corruption. I only throw this impossible question out there because ... actually, I’m not sure; maybe it’s due to the fact that this shallow, anonymous sardine of a blog is a complete mess, which arguably is just a reflection of the disastrous turmoil rumbling inside the numb skull of its author. Perhaps there are other reasons, perhaps not.
People seem to be so earnest, so enthused, so absorbed in the hollow minutia that constitutes the empty physicality of their existence. Gums flap endlessly, creating a veritable wind tunnel for non-stop gusts of blustery noise that don’t mean anything half the time; hands are constantly flailed around and fingers are pointed in a palsy of self-righteous pontification -- always directed outward, never inward; commuters scurry about in a sick pretense of purposefulness, going to insane lengths to screw a happy face onto what is little more than a vacuous exercise in self-destruction; mass quantities of empty calories are gleefully consumed by legions of over-excited television junkies who constantly chitter and jabber about the paternity of some bleached-blonde medical freak’s motherless baby, sparing little or none of their severely restricted capacity for discernment of, and critical thinking about, such things as Neo-Con malfeasance, endless war, or the challenges of living in a theocratic-fascist dictatorship desperately trying to give birth to itself ... All the bright-eyed knuckleheads, the simpering consumerist blowholes, and the stupid fucking sock puppets in human guise sure seem to be enjoying themselves.
News item, Associated Press via the San Francisco Chronicle, 11 April 2007:
INTELLIGENCE CHIEF PUSHES FOR MORE SPYING AUTHORITY
President Bush’s spy chief is pushing to expand the government’s surveillance authority at the same time the administration is under attack for stretching its domestic eavesdropping powers.
National Intelligence Director Mike McConnell has circulated a draft bill that would expand the government’s powers under the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act, liberalizing how that law can be used.
It’s April in the Sacramento Valley and it’s raining -- a certain guarantee of exploding allergies and debilitating migraines, once it dries up and gets hot.
And finally, an overheard workplace conversation:
co-worker #1: “This has been, like, just the weirdest day!”
co-worker #2: “How so?”
co-worker #1: “I don’t know.”
I have no freakin' idea of where I live anymore.