"How I bury my broken hookers and cheap Harbor Freight claw hammers is my business and not yours."
That is my work email tagline. Just kidding. It's "Kill a Commie for Mommy." But I am off in the weeds again. Fellow observers of The Fall of Man(tm) I feel we are teetering on an epochal precipice. As though poised on the outer boundaries of the safe-zone, in some observatory craft, to witness an event horizon. That is funny in and of itself for she surely is this massive black-clad hole that devours everything within her sight. Sucking in sentient bologna worlds on the cusp of evolutionary achievement, microcosmic high-fructose carbonated civilizations on the verge of societal bonds...down the gaping maw of banal consumption.
That's all well and good, and it's fun to write such riculous things. But I truly feel that we're not too far off from some real Lord of the Flies action in that fever swamp. I am not expecting a pig's head on a spear, but I do not rule out a full and unhealthy descent into chaos and madness. Kurtz, afterall, cannot exist forever in his unnatural creation on the Congo. Or Mekong. Or Owetron. Nature is unjust perhaps, but balance is always maintained. That's what I learned when I was way back there in Seminary School.
That is my work email tagline. Just kidding. It's "Kill a Commie for Mommy." But I am off in the weeds again. Fellow observers of The Fall of Man(tm) I feel we are teetering on an epochal precipice. As though poised on the outer boundaries of the safe-zone, in some observatory craft, to witness an event horizon. That is funny in and of itself for she surely is this massive black-clad hole that devours everything within her sight. Sucking in sentient bologna worlds on the cusp of evolutionary achievement, microcosmic high-fructose carbonated civilizations on the verge of societal bonds...down the gaping maw of banal consumption.
That's all well and good, and it's fun to write such riculous things. But I truly feel that we're not too far off from some real Lord of the Flies action in that fever swamp. I am not expecting a pig's head on a spear, but I do not rule out a full and unhealthy descent into chaos and madness. Kurtz, afterall, cannot exist forever in his unnatural creation on the Congo. Or Mekong. Or Owetron. Nature is unjust perhaps, but balance is always maintained. That's what I learned when I was way back there in Seminary School.