Curb Your God

And You Thought You
Were Doing a Great Job

It’s easy to see how we get so annoyed with our fellow humans. After all, it’s clear that we’re constantly surrounded by a multitude of one-track minders, rude and insensitive people, specially when it comes to meeting our needs, and we’ve got this unsettling impression that the world, and its odds, are all heavily stacked against us.
Problem with such a myopic generalization is that often, we are them. Which means, it’s our sense of unbound entitlement that turns every passer by into a fiery competitor for that promotion, that seat on the train, that last piece of cake. Plus, we waste a great deal of time thinking how wonderful we’ve been for even having thought about that.
But it’s not that we’re willing to try our hand on this messy business of helping out or lending a hand, mind you, since we’re pretty sure we already are generous tippers, exquisitely well behaved in public and certainly admired by our peers for our superior emotional intelligence. Except that not even our own mothers would believe in that.
But since when we’re willing to let contradicting evidence to get in the way of us feeling so good about ourselves? That’s perhaps what’s behind the assumption that, since you’re alive, you must pursue life to the fullest, no matter what, social constraints to be damned, and I’ll sue you if I don’t get to park on my favorite spot, you fool.
It may be also what fuels the drive to survive at any cost, even when you can hardly function as a body, and long after all your sense of connection with the surrounding reality is gone. At that point, the medical establishment, for one, would be more than interested in extending your permanent oblivion, for obvious reasons. And you didn’t say otherwise on your will, when you could, anyway.
Thinking about that, we’ve published a compilation of slightly related topics, as wide and all over the place as we like them, that may help enforce the point that, well, whatever point we were making then. It was sometime ago, anyway. Let’s just hope you can relate to them too.

* Smell the Ol’ New York, Circa 1970. 190th Street Station (“Take the ‘A’ Train”), by the elevator to Fort Tryron. Feel as glorious as a crackhead may have felt in those cheery 1970s of out of control rioting and experimental lawlessness. Let the waft of a day-old dried urine awaken your adventurous personality and inebriate yourself in the pungent body odor that only someone who’s been partying on crystalmeth for over 72 hours is capable of emanating.
* Have Some Private Quality Time. West Street between Continue reading