The burden of affluent modernity

We are aware beings. You can call the middle class soft and that's fine. And being afraid of what's out there is nothing new. But because of the instinctual sense that something is out to get you, whether it be predators, nature or death itself, we fear. In the comfort of a suburban house, an air conditioned multiplex or anywhere you would anticipate to be comfortable, it's there. Some even revel in it - disaster or apocalyptic films. Thrill rides. Sky diving. Our fear is saddled comfortably on our backs and because it has been there for so long, we think we deserve it.

"It" is what I fear is coming, though this thought is not unique to any generation. The end.

Could it be the smothering of sheltered academic ideology that impressed this theory? Paul Cook, you suck. You and your kind's puritanical influence theory. That's a symptom, not the cause. It's the fear instinct, perched on that saddle, riding behind me, unseen but present, that I cannot define that has snugged up on the reins until it owns me, leads me to the water of 'I deserve something terrible for all my time in comfort and ease' and I bend my head and drink from the poisoned water of Pepsi, so sweet and sugary, taking my medicine. I need it. I deserve this.

Soaped up and safe. Policed and free. TVed into life.

Sloppy

You've seen them. Not that flab in and of itself is bad. It's American. so it goes. Not that flip flops are in and of themselves bad. And consider spaghetti strap tank tops, not wrong in and of themselves. Put all these not so bad things together, even then, not too far gone. But now, add in the old one cheek effort. She dresses like this, but she doesn't try very hard. Whatever that missing intangible is, it doesn't help. She's just barely trying and making a terrible assumption that the parts make the whole.

Not so. Sloppy.

how vs. why

Science tells us how. Religion tells us why.

If religion tells us why, then why?

Christianity is just another how while you are looking for why. If Christianity were the answer to why, then God's name would be "Because." God's name is "I AM", which means there is no why, just is.

'merica

'merica the beautiful.

The only way to start any race is with a sawed-off twelve gauge fired directly into the air. Seen that new Dodge commercial?

Cowboys, Firemen and even 2 librarians in strategically blurred, hairy muscle suits (if I'm remembering correctly) all set out in a race through desert, pyrotechnics and ball-busting jumps. Whose dodge ram will survive? Grinning and covered from head to toe in facial hair these MachoSexuals, caricatures of what it really means to be an american, plunge, head first, into this race of guts, glory and guts. And glory.

Though we do not know yet how this race turns out (patience my pets), we do know that only the cutting room floor will bear witness to the final scene in which each group takes turn bludgeoning to death a baby seal with their swollen hardy genitals.

God bless 'merica.

How to Shut Up!

And here's my point: I hate blogs. Not interested. I do have a tendency to run off at the mouth. You've been there. Oh. I shouldn't have said that. I'm going to say that stuff here because nobody reads blogs. And if they do, it's there own fault.

This way I can commit my talking time to more important things . . . like what's for dinner. Or better yet, I'll just shut up.

It's open season and I am cammo'd up and ready to snipe bambi right out of the taboo forest.

And don't think I don't know it was bambi's mom that ended up shot.