The beliefs and passions of our elders

I've heard that dreaming becomes more complex and vivid as we age. I think I read it somewhere, or perhaps an old person told me so in between fork-fulls of green beans or spinach. In any case, our elders like green vegetables a lot because these foods generally receive sympathetic recommendations from the venerable MDs who listen to the whizzing of their phlegm-filled lungs. It's kind of sad that the world that old-folks lived most of their lives in has so quickly become obsolete. They didn't know any better though, so while their lives are sad, grossly limited compared with those of us coming into our own during this blazing present, it's not their fault that everything they paid attention to and enjoyed is primitive beyond belief. Who now can imagine going to a concert without the familiar glow of smart (brilliant, fucking genius) phones basking our faces in blue light? How did anyone enjoy anything without recording it with the intention if not plan to post it on the internet? What a waste, those old folks and all of their old-school experiences. What's the most they might be able to do with it? Only the most talented and motivated among them might have tried to express what they had experienced with anything more complicated than "It was a great show."

The most shocking difference between the old people and the new is that us new folks don't need to know anything anymore, whereas the old ones had to go medieval and use books, and words written on cards and papers and stuff. It must have taken forever. Luckily for us, there are some really smart business people who make machines for us to buy, and if we want to know something (but we rarely do, knowing stuff is like, super old) we can use the machine to tell us. It's the new knowledge; so long as the business people keep making things for us to buy, we'll continue reaping the rewards of the cutting-edge times we live it. The old people didn't realize how dated and tacky their ways of life were. But let's be fair, what websites had they to inform them of their folly? Fortunately, ours and future generations will rest easy, knowing that our lives are forever cast as the most special, least tacky that ever were. Even our distant grandchildrens' grandchildren will be amazed at our skill at choosing between this colored computer or that one, this phone which beeps like this, or the one that beeps like that. "What skills they had in that gay old time!" the future grandchildren will exclaim via a businessman's consumer product in their minds.

The old people need their vivid dreams because they cannot handle the failure that their lives have been. They cannot grasp the wasted years, the half-hearted existences they've been forced to endure through no fault of their own. Sure they had radio, television and cars, sure they had pharmaceuticals and CAT-scans, but what are these compared to our ability to watch everything that's ever been filmed within a seconds of having thought of it? What are lawn sprinklers and air-conditioning compared to the next iphone or the next generation of Honda robots? "Not much," will be the eternal judgment of posterity. So let the old people dream the rest of their muted lives away. Let's not disturb them modern folk! Set your machines to silent, glance only discreetly at your phones so as not to disrupt their stupors. And when they smile at you and motion to you to sit by their sides, do not worry because your ear bud cannot be seen. That way you will appear to be listening though you are not. At least this way the semblance of humanity will persist, virtually speaking!

*Title comes from this

Economists are not important

They can go have sex with themselves. They should put on some flavored chapstick and then they would enjoy kissing when they fornicate with each other, because when it comes to passionate love making, even economists are able to put aside their immortal love of competition and get down to the deep funk, the pungent bass, that is physical love. I think that really the world is deeply stupid. Like Colbert says, the world should shut up and make my tube socks. Here on the holy continent of North America, we have no need for anything at all. Our working class can choke and die. All the blue collars on all the people who do not wear the suit costume can also go have sex with themselves - their existences aren't necessary. We need only those with white collars, it is they who toil to make the earth rotate the sun. Holy moly their collars are pristine and sterile!

Economists are complete assholes. I'm pretty sure not an individual among the herd has a clue about what's going on. Goldman Sachs has just recently been called out for showing its penis to a bunch of children. I don't think they're even remotely ashamed. They can go have sex with themselves. And with the stroke-inducing wages and profits they "earn" being slithering charlatans, they can certainly afford to dig their own shallow graves, courting the dumbest, blindest worms for their pending decomposition. Because one day soon, not soon as in days or months, but soon as in years, they will indeed lay inanimate in the earth and the worms relied on for consuming redundant flesh will be reluctant to chew on such tainted corpses. It's well known that worms, insects and other microscopic organisms are reluctant to consume the flesh of animals which have no motive other than the most base momentary advantage.

I can't take the abysmal stupidity and greed that is everywhere. We are yapping seagulls fighting over a single french fry. Posture yourselves one and all! Make your selves look good, and practice your appearance so that when you really are in "public" you look the successful part. Maybe one day you too will man (Who are women?) the computers and make important decisions which either gain or lose money for people you pretend you care about. Fuck them though. Life is only a game and if people expect to meet genuine people who do not want to break them, to tear their spines from their skulls, they are fools and children, which are the same thing. Real people, meaning real men, are those who waste no time in punching numerical values into private databases - "10,000, 12%, 1 quarter" - these are the symbols which lead to reality. What could be more important than trends in desktop computing and networking? Trick question: Nothing. All the rest of us can stand aside, admire the suits from afar, oh my god their ties are so skillfully tied! They can go fornicate with themselves... they can certainly afford it!

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Original painting, untitled.

Cover those up.

I have recently been ruminating on what designates 'Private Parts' and what is 'obscene.' At least in this wonderfully liberal society of North America we have about five specific 'private parts.' These can be unanimously agreed upon as: the anus, the vulva, the scrotum, the breasts (females only) and the penis. Not every human has all these 'privates' as we are aware. Each of our sexes has the pleasure of having an anus. We also both have breasts , in some odd sort of way only a females breasts can be classified as being 'private.' A man's breasts are clean and wonderful and hairily spectacular.

So, a woman has to cover her breasts up, obviously. But then again, when we take a closer look, we may notice that the breasts themselves are composed of at least two specific parts. There's the mushy, soft flesh tissue and there's also a part of the breast that kind of sticks out and is usually a different colour than flesh; it's usually darker. This is the nipple, this is actually the naughty bit of the 'private' part of the breast.

Allow me to explain. In olden days, a woman's breasts were all naughty. Every last bit of it. In fact, at one time here in North America, a woman's skin besides her face and hands were 'private parts.' But I digress, women usually kept all of their breasts concealed from our sensitive eyes. And then something happened. Something unusual. Perhaps there was a sort of consciousness change within all of us. Women began to show more and more of their breasts. There was cleavage. This would be the fleshy part of the breast when two breasts meet at the center of the chest. We could all agree that, yes; this certainly was part of the breast. But being liberal North Americans, we didn't seem to mind. This cleavage continued for a great many decades. It's primary use was bait for ensnaring men for a mate, or just an evening of fun. Eventually, a style of swimwear- the bikini - was given a bit of modification from the beaches of Florida. These garments pretty much showed all of the breast except for the dreaded nipple. Sure, the outfit was provocative and perhaps teetering on the edge of 'obscene.' With a progressive attitude, we put our foot down and declared, "The breast is a private part! You can show bits of it if you want, but you may not show that nipple!' There was celebration and jubilation between the sexes.

But where will this end? There have been rumblings among the men. I too share this sentiment. 'Hey, if they are allowed to show that, why can't I show this?' It has been commonly known that all parts of both the scrotum and the penis are naughty 'private parts.' Could this change, can liberal North America challenge the norm in any way? I have noticed that the penis too has it's specific parts. There is the tube-like wrinkly bits called the shaft. There is also some more wrinkly hood-like bits called the foreskin (which some men don't have) and of course the dreaded head. The head of the penis could be unanimously agreed upon as being the nipple of the penis.

Is it time for us as a liberal society to allow for men to show a bit of the penis? If the head is covered, could the shaft be exposed for the same purpose as the fleshy soft part of the breast, the purpose of ensnaring a mate? May there be some kind of garment that could show off this obscene 'private part' of a man that we could all again collectively agree as being provocative yet still tasteful? Somehow, I think we may soon find out.

Happy April Fools.