Wust in the Dind

The first thing you have to understand, if you ever hope to live a life of complete ineffectuality, is that man is a beetle that wanders from truth to truth, otherwise known as dung. He eats his fill, thinks he has reached a state of nirvana, and then moves on, never understanding that the only truth is that he will not find truth in his lifetime.  He follows politics, takes up yoga, reads philosophy, has children, seeking in all of these things the meaning of his existence.  When it would have been better to have done nothing at all, but drink wine, and refrain otherwise from believing in the reality of anything. 

All sentient beings are born to failure, as are all nonsentient beings.  Look over there.  A failed rock.  And a failed tree.  The tree is beautiful, you say?  One day it will fall on you, and its branches will impail you, and its trunk will crush you, and it will have served God well.  How to prove the futility of man?  There is no one there to give the policeman a good kicking.  The Holocaust happened, and yet there are people who will tell you life is good, because they have personally been spared misfortune.  Little good it does to tell them they were merely in the wrong place at the wrong time.  When one man suffers we all suffer, we are merely too numb to know it.  We are all under the corrupting anesthetic of optimism, that loathsome philosophy that posits that just because we are not all being brutally murdered by our fellow man, that life is copacetic.  Luck of birth is no excuse for woeful ignorance, and even the most casual perusal of the daily newspaper should be enough to convince anyone with even an ounce of brains in their noggin that their ability to draw breath is a mere coincidence of geography.    

All life is suffering, and the luckiest man ever born was a stone.  He was buried, by happenstance, beneath a pile of other stones.  There he drew breath, and felt safe, and was blind to everything.  How we envy him. 

Comments

[Martijn]

All time classic. Print, frame, nail to the wall, or on the door of any church or other institution of false hope!

My admiration (for the writing and expression) cannot be put into words.

[karoline]

Sentient sensitives we vow to feel them
, you hummusitarian, oh wait you don't like hummus I think? then Humanitarian it is. nice post!

[UF Mike]

Thanks so much Martijn. I was feeling cranky. Karoline, I love hummus, and I am a humanitarian. Meaning that I feel immense pity for every single person in the world.

[Bryon]

That bit about the Holocaust reminded me of a passage from Levi's Survival in Auschwitz. You've read your Levi, yes? I love him like I love my mom.

[Jan Martin Löhndorf]

Wise words indeed, I am struck with awe.
Fuck, it's simply great.

[Dave Mows Grass]

I'm carving this into stone right now so that it might survive the nuclear holocaust which is definitely going to happen. I am carving it in the Queen's English, left to right, just as you wrote it. Which is a real bitch if you happen to be right-handed, like most of us are. Like I am.

[Jan Martin Löhndorf]

Yeah, carry the spark through the darkness that is closing in on us, Dave!

[UF Mike]

I don't believe the world will end. I don't believe in happy endings.

[hunter s brandon]

it is indeed all pretty pointless ...but at least its free , if we were paying by pay per view there are many times i would certainly want my effing money back....