pokes

Ever heard that tragedy is when I stub my toe whereas comedy is when you fall down the stairs and break your neck? Sometimes I feel that way, as though I am the demented product of some systematically cruel conditioning in which I am made to feel amusement at the expense of others. Learned indifference taught as humor by appealing to the lowest commmon denominator. Every world's worst whatever special, every episode of Jerry Springer, heck even Saved by the Bell are all indicative of a culture in which we take pleasure in the misfortune of others. Under the guise of entertainment we watch laugh-track ridden, 22 minute, condensed seminars of sadism. A society in which a nice guy is said to finish last and is labeled a "mark" whilst bad is good, and despicable characteristics are revered is where I make my home. A place in which the golden rule somehow became: he who has the gold makes the rules. I make my home amonst the low-lifes, the degenerates, the scum, the cunts, the filth, the dogs, and the shit. And I try not to emulate my neighbor though sometimes I fear I am an unwitting puppet whose strings are controlled by a system of oppression far simpler then anything orwellian or akin to the matrix or brave new world. No, I live in a world in which propaganda passes itself off as news, in which misinformation is greedily gobbled up by the unpacified masses eager for seconds and in which dog eats dog. These are troubling times and I fear my generation taking the reigns.