My Own Country

In my late teens I tattooed an anarchy symbol upon my person. It was a tattoo that I put little thought into and, at the time, was merely an extension of my love for all things punk rock. I had swallowed most everything whole up to that point in my life; America was the best country in the world, God was real and at work in our daily lives and that generally, humanity was kind and decent. The symbol (and the tattoo) became the first salvo in the undoing of my formidable years of indoctrination. It’s terrifying to realize (especially when you’re young) that the sacred things most people cherish are primarily smoke and mirrors. At the same time, its quite liberating to start living life on your own terms.

I see the world for what it is, not what I want it to be. I have come to one conclusion during my brief tenure on this planet: humanity is mostly awful. We are only as moral and as just as our options. We treat desperate and starving people with casual indifference. We kill each other over economics, ideology and the last piece of chicken. We elect demagouges as saviors and then expect them to do the right thing while we distract ourselves with another season of Game of Thrones.

Always remember others may hate you but those who hate you don’t win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself. -Richard Nixon

I am dumbfounded at how trusting people are of their “leaders” and how much they revere their institutions. It’s comforting to believe in something or take solace in the fact that that drug company has your best interest at heart. Therein lies the tragedy of the human condition.

Chaos and indifference can be entertaining. If nothing else, sitting atop this ash heap of history will be entertaining as shit.

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