Pessimism

This is the first of a few things that I'll be posting that are written by my friend, Danny Ford. Let us know what you think. -T.W.

Our youth is manufactured and shrink wrapped. Prefabricated by a society that hates us to mold us into the next generation of "fine, upstanding citizens," it's nothing more than a formality we all must endure. Only the lucky ones grow enough to recognize the societal blindspots and brainwashes, and only the cream of that crop has the courage to fight that system.

Individuality is impossible in the postmodern dystopia we call home. Fresh ideas died with the seventies. Chivalry died with pre-parliamentary England. Compassion died with the discovery of polymers.

Idealistic, Ozzy and Harriet households have never existed. Beaver is bullied every day, the Fonz carries a switchblade, and Andy Griffith is the worst sheriff ever. Sugarcoat this all you want, but set it outside in the rainstorm we call reality for sixty seconds and the sugar all melts away.

Excepting theoretically existential dimensions beyond the third, there is only one truth. one chronology. one history. Organized religions will continue to rape and ravage the society that harbors it until it (society) learn to realize that they (the churches) are not the all-seeing, all-knowing super entities that they think they are.

Who came up with the 1950s? conceptually, I mean, not chronologically. Idealism has never been realized. We hope for the best, knowing full well that the worst is on its way. Why are we all so blind to the fact that bliss is unattainable? We argue constantly that the past is an indication of the future, but we turn a blind eye to what we know in hopes of finding something more in what we don't.

Discounting the propaganda fed to us by television and newspapers, all we know is what we see. We emulate it. Since the beginning of our lives, individually, and since the dawn of time, as a population, we've copied what others do. Emulations of emulations. its all we are. Its pathetic.