“Henry Krinkle” commented on my post “I want my daughters to be lesbians” that not only did I want my daughters initially to be aborted, I want them to marry women, not get jobs, don’t buy homes, don’t go to college, and never own stocks. He also commented on how I mentioned to my daughters that one day we’ll all be dead.
He suggested that I probably need serious help. Even therapy, or perhaps institutionalization. “Its sad”, he said, that I mentioned to them that we’d all be dead some day.
He said, correctly, there are certainly better things to talk about with a nine year old and a twelve year old than how one hundred years in the future chances are none of the three of us would exist except that I hope that I’m the first to go. We could all talk about “Star Wars” for instance, my favorite movie, but they don’t like it. Or “Schindler’s List”, my other favorite movie, but they refuse to see it.
To an extent, he’s right. On this planet if you try to say something honest, admit to imperfections or have ideas about the world that are contrary to most, then most people are going to think you are clinically ill, even insane. And if you are insane, then sadly there are a lot of people out there who want to hurt you physically and psychically.
I could be fooling myself. This blog is like a shit of words that I decided to smear all over the computer. But its obvious to me that:
- Owning a home.
- Paying for college.
- Donating to charity
- Owning stocks
- Having a cubicle job at the pencil factory
are largely all scams. I have professional experience with each one. I can tell you: they are (for the most part. Not 100%) criminal enterprises run by mass murderers. I can tell you stories.
Just think for a second about the above five items. If you don’t stress about the first four: then you won’t need to do #5 as much.
I like to always think of ways to reduce stress. Reducing stress + staying healthy increases the odds of being lucky. Being lucky makes you money, finds you love, and all the other good things in life. We only get our chance at a few moments of those. The rest of the time, the mortgage is due. the mortgage on every temporary thing you borrowed in life that you thought was permanently yours.
I’ve had many periods where I’ve been unlucky. It’s usually pretty easy to figure out the cause. If you point a figure, and take your worst, sorrowful, most pain-filled voice and point and say, “HE did this to me!” then as long as you are pointing at a mirror, you know you’ve started telling the truth.
Most of the time everyone, including me, is hypnotized and walking around in a soupy fog. We can’t help it. It’s like the prisoner-guard syndrome. Ultimately you fall in love with the guards. And everything they say sounds like the truth even though they are feeding us dog shit and giving us electric shock therapy all day long.
I’m going to talk straight with you: I’m a little bit afraid today. I have to have to go to sleep at the hand of an anesthesiologist for about three hours. I haven’t even had a physical in about twenty five years. Do you dream if you are knocked out by an anesthesiologist? What’s the odds of dying?
I don’t care about that so much. But what if someone has to go to the bathroom while under anesthesiology? What happens then? Is it embarrassing? Can I have a wet dream under anesthesiology? Will doctors and nurses laugh at me and I’ll be oblivious because I’m unconscious while they are scraping away at me with their tools and their fluids?
Right now it’s so early that if I stop typing I can’t hear a thing. The birds haven’t even started their chirping yet. I think I’m going to sit totally still, and listen to it all for a few more minutes.
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