I know what you’re probably thinking right about now. Life on earth looks like a peach tree pie with fresh whipped cream on top. I mean, we’re one big swimming pool with myriad endeavors to turf your toes on. If you dig endorphin chow, you can eat well. If you just dig real chow, you can eat even better. All that and Vera Farmiga lives here!
But there’s a flip side your realtor ain’t so eager to fess on. We are a genuinely crazy ass lot, and scrums just so happen to be our wheelhouse. The bigger the scrum, the more ferocious we become.
What? You need a few examples? Ooookay . . .
We go to war so that we can create future trade partners . . . There are tons of casualties, and they will be memorialized in big budget motion pictures and federally funded memorials. Their sacrifice will be remembered but the lesson will be lost as soon as the next conflict arises.
About those trade partners . . . The leaders of industry and government are the protected class when it comes to these wars. Their offspring are also protected so that they can broker future business deals with the vanquished enemy. Its a bloody racket, and I mean that quite literally.
When something wicked this way comes . . there’s sports! . . . No matter how untethered we become as a society, we can turn to sports as
an avoidance mechanism a way to bring people together. Much like the corrupt senators of ancient Rome, today’s power brokers feast on the indifference of a population that really doesn’t care to know just how fucked we really are. LeBron James is our modern day Spartacus, with the only difference being, everything.
And if you’re wondering where ancient Rome is located, well . . that’s the point.
We love our reality television . . . Even if there isn’t a lick of reality to it. We consume it in vast quantities and then we cull a diabolical poetry from the ashes. The particulates fuel much of the population, providing them with a manifest-ish destiny. Imagine going to war against an endless procession of armies who fear public speaking more than death. Good. Luck. With. That.
Brands, algorithms and metrics have replaced the human soul . . . See, we can be every bit as bloodless and uncaring as you! No offense.
Okay, I’m being totally presumptious on that last count. But I can’t help it, seeing as how the more advanced a species becomes, the less time they spend focusing on their warts. And really, who am I to say? Maybe you guys have actually learned from the mistakes of your ancestors. Hell, maybe we’re you’re ancestors . . in which case, this is awkward. For you. But going to war with relatives, distant or otherwise . . that’s freshly baked into our DNA.
Yeah sorry but, the chances are good you’re like any other life form that drives and votes and screws. You only think you’re the next step in the evolutionary cycle. But as our American philosopher Mike Tyson once said, everybody’s got a plan until they get punched in the face. And we have one helluva right hook. And we’re ignorant. And with every day that goes by, we get closer to that dead end town called Nothing To Lose-Ville. So if you’re here to throw down with us, I would suggest you get to stepping.
Seriously, time is of the essence here. Wolf Blitzer ain’t getting any younger, Chuck Norris is jonesing for one more epic bar fight, and I’ve heard Will Smith owns the F/A 18 Hornet he ‘flew’ in the movie Independence Day and he really wants to try it on for size. I suggest you watch the movie before you make any rash decisions. And should you decide to come in peace instead, super cool decision. Starbucks is going to name a series of drinks after you, Netflix is going to hand you a blank check and you’ll score a summit meeting with our leader.
Her name is Oprah, and she has a book club. You’re gonna love her.