Come past your place saying, ‘watch you don’t get buried alive,’ I mean. I’m sure it wasn’t old mate ‘not sorry about the discard but I’d like a coldie please’ here.
In any event, am on that. Don’t worry shitbird. Watch you know your enemy like you know yourself. Watch you’re not acting like you have all the answers with nary a patent clue as to the question. Watch you don’t bury yourselves alive with your pack conceit and your collective ahistorical megalomania and your suffocating tribal codependency and your soulless grandiosity and your servile arrogance and your sterile conformity and your shit. Watch you don’t become hooked on the upward mobility bandwagon and start sacrificing being happy to being normal. Watch you don’t get hooked on feeding consumer durables to the alienation monster. Watch you don’t get hooked on feeding people to it instead when the upward class mobility bandwagon falters, and you don’t have disposable income to service crutches with objects that aren’t people you’ve ritually essentialised, demonised and dehumanised. Watch you don’t become disappointments to yourselves and others, and live out your days hiding from yourselves inside cliques and cults whose main purpose is to make it okay to crawl back into the womb now.
Growing up is fucked up. The world was well fucked before I was part of the picture. World history is cooked. Someone should do something.
