Greetings to all of you hairy, originality-challenged testosteroids and to the
high-pitched strident demanders as well, or as polite hosts call their
audiences – "ladies and gentlemen."
In my rare pass through this dreary sector of the Solar System, I’m amazed to
find so many of the old planets still orbiting a dead star.
Yet there they are: silverwhisper, Zayda, CreativeWoman, TheNakedProfessor,
even that terminally morbid sob sister hunter_boyce_chandler – still blowing
figurative hot air from their common holes. Wasn’t that ponderous hippiecrat
supposed to be dead?
Actually, this is a role-call of the blogging dead, for nowhere in the blog universe
is there an air of stagnancy and stale ideologies to match these.
With summer here, they are encouraged to take a well-deserved break. Or to
at least give the poor addictive-prone readership one. Let the "popular"
members abandon their 5-cents-per-day jobs until September so we can see
what fresh cream might rise to the top, once the dead skin is skimmed off the
surface.
Please, even popular TV shows have summer replacements. Even the most
self-absorbed mental masturbator must realize that fearfully clinging to your
popularity quickly grows pathetic (inferring that you’ve been pathetic for a long
time now). Does anyone really need to read about JadeLondon’s toenail
clippings? Do these open diaries make the masses feel better knowing that
in their mediocrity they are not alone?
They need a holiday. No need to make up reasons. Any old excuse for
downtime seems adequate when applied to these blogging closet socialites.
Alas, if only the byproducts of excessive alcohol consumption and nicotine
absorption could be sold, the Gross National Product would increase a million
fold and SoulCast’s popular clique could all give up the 9-to-5 façade, able at
last to devote that final 24th hour of the day to their favorite activity – spewing
uncooked opinions, getting hooked up and whining about spouses to internet
chumnumbies. At least then something coming out of them would be valuable.
Hypocrites and rhythm-jacked tools that the rest of you are, you undoubtedly
twisted your neck-knots and donned shoulder-padded esteem-substitution
uni-suits this morning to attend those fascinating "occupations" that have
become so routine, you no longer bother to bring your brain to the workplace.
Now rest your gray matter further with this dribble.
With your obese ass infirmly slopping over your woefully inadequate chair,
you anxiously activate your personal computer anticipating yet another eight
hours of rapid-eyeballing a glowing screen filled with sample whores and
endless window-shopping. Your lotion, tissue box and credit card are standing
faithfully by.
Watching your face as it sags and glimmers while klutzy fingerpads lope about
a keyboard so overused that few letters can even be discerned upon it,
the observer becomes amused at the expressions that reveal your "brain" at
work as your eyes shift from downward "verbal" communication focus (typing
and braying) to upward incoming data analysis (reading and looking). These
goofy facial contortions are equally matched by the gaseous emissions
and the pizza-fumed sighs, hacks and noises flatulencing from the rest of your
flab-chassis’ odorous exhaust systems.
In an age of psychological indulgence you live your virtual life interacting with a
monitor screen in the same way your ancestors did once upon a long ago and
far away with people, with each other. You smile at the screen, cry at the screen,
shout at the screen and expose yourself to it. And for once you have a friend you
can’t let down, a confessor you won’t disappoint, a drug you don’t have to eat.
Yet, the choices you make in that virtual plane are reflections of your own mental
state. While it seems to expand globally, your virtual world spirals inward, in
ever-decreasing spires of interest until just a few things with multitudes of
information about them preoccupy your easily-diverted attention.
On allaround, gingersoul, bloc and on secret. Aren’t you looking forward to a
holiday highlighted by your…
…religions filled with demons, your industrial-strength mutations,
your military zombies from bloodsucking vengeful nations,
your empires built by vampires with your governments filled by Ghouls,
your interest groups of witches wielding overbearing tools…
…Enforcers change like werewolves, Academics float as ghosts,
while a universe of parasites use you fools as their hosts.
Though it would be appropriate, please DON’T wait for Halloween to take that
break. Public mental health services can’t stand by on 24-hour alert forever.
Fuck you people. Why do you live?
