I WOULD RATHER DIE ON MY COUCH THAN LIVE IN LAS VEGAS

I WOULD RATHER DIE ON MY COUCH THAN LIVE IN LAS VEGAS: NO PICTURES-NO MEMES-READ OR PISS OFF
(Longish post-wasn’t me-it was the uppers and booze)
Oh man-this one’s bound to land a rabbit punch. Watching the nightly news…high paid crocodiles and Leviathan analysts. All swerving around that rotten elephant in the room-the undeniable consenus that we’re all fucked. Listening to the elastics of the anchorman on such a program is the same as hearing Zeus after he sustained some serious head trauma but now is able to walk, count to ten, and go potty like a big boy. Now then-don’t sell yourselves short in all of this. You folks on Facebook are part of the same crippled zeitgeist. Indeed-your opinions, your pontifications, your very rage plays an amazing counterpoint to the mechanistic melody of every whir and click the machine farts out. And for every demented media icon the system casts in a starring role, you are the idiotic Greek Chorus of the 21st century-moving the play along…don’t feel bad. I am too. We were born to be the laughing stock of 24th century scholars. There’s no shame in it. But, we do have to make peace with our Cro-Magnon role here in this rusty hinge of an era. Here’s what I find brings me the divine lee: a quart of Jim Beam, two 40oz bottles of Olde English Malt liqour, 2 grams of cocaine, 10 “Green Hulk” Xanax bars, one Hostess fruit pie, and a copy of Humble Pie’s Greatest Hits. Work with that for a couple of days and you will feel beyond the reach of the shitfire machine. You will feel Christ-like. So much so that you will see 90% of the world for the Pharisees that they are. And you will forgive them and feel great sympathy for their tiny dicks… you can’t beat the system, but with the right kind of mojo, you can pity it…