Long time no post. So, duly scolded by one who is likely to be my only reader (but the sapience of whom compensates for the lack of abundance), I set off to compile another succulent compendium of sapid trivialities; another window opens up on the landscape of human abhorrence.
In spite of the current month, it's quite cold in Nipples. Temperatures are well below seasonal average. It's a Friday night, but in my state of virtual unemployment it doesn't really make a difference what day it is. The considerable incentive to go out one feels after a week's worth of multifarious degradation at the office is presently absent from my life, so Friday isn't really Friday. I'm staying in. No point in leaving the flat to catch my death in that cold, damp, miserable encore of winter that nobody asked for. God, if you're really there, if the world is actually 5,000 years old and you put dinosaur fossils there just to test our faith, I beseech thee: give me some springtime and I'll convert to your balmy cult. I'll slip on a burlap sack and roam the dusty streets of Galilea preaching the second coming of your first born child. Or give me another day like today and I'll desecrate a church by the act of defecation, burn it to the ground in the name of the Prince of Darkness, and celebrate its destruction by committing impure acts with a not-necessarily-consenting chicken, while my facial features contort in the conjoined evil pleasures of blasphemy and cross-species fornication.
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Actually, I have been out. I've had a few beers, a few laughs, and a late night snack. Late night snacks are one of my favourite things in life. But that is completely beside the point. This post is supposed to be about misanthropy; therefore, let us not be sidetracked by my accidentally and temporarily renewed faith in the human race: our species is going down the toilet, it's plain to see.
This is particularly obvious when we look at our friends, with all their faults and foibles. Acquaintances are even better in that respect, because you hang out with them often enough to notice how flawed they are, but you're not close enough for your judgement to be tempered by benevolence. Some of my acquaintances, for example, are disgustingly sectarian, and their double standards are so blatant that I find myself constantly grappling with the dilemma of whether they are, as simple folk say, "for real". Sadly, I must invariably come to the conclusion that they are. But sectarianism is only one particular vice, out of the many that I could have picked. You've got your scroungers, your opportunists, your con artists of romance; people who only give you a ring when they want something from you, and people who apparently want something from you, but it's not quite clear what; women who inundate Facebook with their bitter reflections on how much they've been hurt by insensitive men, and then embark on the solemn, holy quest of having sexual intercourse with every last bastard on the face of the earth, only so that they can later complain about them and perpetuate the unbreakable cycle of shag and nag.
Naples is playing tonight. After three consecutive defeats I'm ready and willing to burn the chairman of the club in effigy, since I don't think it would be possible to get to him in person. I hope I won't have to. Bonfires aren't that common round these parts, and the police don't take kindly to such unusual behaviour. Burning people in effigy is, within the beautifully childish, endearingly simplified mindset of the average law enforcer, something ragheads do. Police brutality, religious intolerance and a losing streak, three more reasons to be disappointed in the human race.
To top it all off, I've got a headache. I took a tablet but it didn't do any good. The inefficacy of many pharmaceutical products: yet another item in my list of things to hate my congeners for. I could go on like this ad libitum, as the accomplished musician will say. But I will stop here, because, as they say in my colourful, somewhat bawdy local dialect, m'aggio rutto 'o cazzo. Literally, it means I've broken my penis. I'm fed up with this. I think I'm going to look at some naked women: one the very few things that redeem this epic evolutionary fail called mankind.
To top it all off, I've got a headache. I took a tablet but it didn't do any good. The inefficacy of many pharmaceutical products: yet another item in my list of things to hate my congeners for. I could go on like this ad libitum, as the accomplished musician will say. But I will stop here, because, as they say in my colourful, somewhat bawdy local dialect, m'aggio rutto 'o cazzo. Literally, it means I've broken my penis. I'm fed up with this. I think I'm going to look at some naked women: one the very few things that redeem this epic evolutionary fail called mankind.
