[This is part of a recurring series on the writings of Sei Shōnogon.]
Sei Shōnagon (清少納言), [pronounced Say Show-nah-gone] (966-1017) was a Lady-In-Waiting serving the Japanese Empress. While not a princess herself, she certainly had the temperment of one and the sensitivities of a noble. She authored the Pillow Book a "collection of lists, gossip, poetry, observations, complaints and anything else she found of interest during her years in the court." Sounds like blogging to me.
Japanese culture initially was formed and nurtured by the nobles and royal court. To be scholarly and poetic was expected and had it not been so, Japanese culture would be far less rich than it is today as the populace in general was not yet literate to the point of introducing art.
It may seem odd a female is one of the great early contributors of Japanese culture in such a male dominated society, but in its formative times, this was not unusual at all and Sei even had contemporary female rivals in the same pursuits. But to put this time in perspective, we first need a quick review of Japanese history and where her time fits in.
Japanese culture took its initial ideas from China and Korea but was really a fresh start which they morphed all into their own. They created their own creation myth with a set of holy artifacts and a holy emperor granting divinity to the nation through him. But then rebellions flared up in the countryside causing the nobility to recruit those who would serve them in retaining power. These men were called samurai, meaning "to serve".
But a funny thing happened on the way to the court. Eventually the samurai asked themselves, "Why serve them when we can serve ourselves? We are the true power after all!" And so began centuries of power struggles not resolved until 1600 with the establishment of the Tokugawa shogunate, which was dissolved in the 1860s when power was returned once again to the emperor.
Shōnagon's time was in the twilight of the age when samurai still served and the nobility held absolute power. After the samurai took power, life was very hard in the royal court as they were completely dependent on outside funding without their ability to tax. But Shōnagon knew none of this in the halcyon days of Japanese royalty.
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Things that make one's heart beat faster:
Sparrows feeding their young
To pass a place where babies are playing
To sleep in a room where fine incense has been burnt
To notice that one's elegant Chinese mirror has become a little cloudy
To see a gentleman stop his carriage before one's gate and instruct his attendants to announce his arrival
To wash one's hair, make one's toilet, and put on scented robes; even if not a soul sees one, these preparations still produce an inner pleasure.
It is night and one is expecting a visitor. Suddenly one is startled by the sound of rain-drops, which the wind blows against the shutters.
Things that cannot be compared:
Summer and winter
Night and day
Rain and sunshine
Youth and age
A person's laughter and his anger
Black and white
Love and hatred
The little indigo plant and the great philodendron
Rain and mist
When one has stopped loving somebody, one feels that he has become someone else, even though he is still the same person.
In a garden full of evergreens the crows are all asleep. Then, towards the middle of the night, the crows in one of trees suddenly wake up in a great flurry and start flapping about. Their unrest speads to the other trees, and soon all the birds have been startled from their sleep and are cawing in alarm. How different from the same crows in the daytime!
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An observation on carriages:
A palm-leaf carriage should move more slowly, or else it loses its dignity. A wickerwork [cheaper] carriage, on the other hand, should go fast. Hardly has one seen a palm-leaf carriage pass the gate when it is out of sight, and all that remains is the attendants who run after it. At such moments I enjoy wondering who the passengers may be. But, if a wickerwork carriage moves slowly, one has plenty of time to observe it, and that becomes very dull.
The problem with running - running away - as opposed to running towards - is that you're never looking ahead, and then, without noticing, you reach a place far worse than you could have ever run from. I was too convinced, too knowing of some without knowing of other, the genius of mind blended with a blindness of mind, pulling me and pushing me ever further, trapping me in my escape until the walls between dimensions of spacetime bent and I found to my horror, my footprints in time.
Like an unwieldy giant or a Tokyo monster, my every movement threw shockwaves of time in all directions in ways too powerful to coordinate, wrecking even this abandoned landscape upon which I tread. Every step forward took us another year forward in time. No! I pleaded, this can't be. This can't be me doing this. All the lives in the world - maybe the universe - the truth too horrible to know - affected by my every step, rushing a time that was not ready. I stopped, hoping time would catch up with me, but that only made time stop still.
Oceans of fear pooled at my feet, rising with every stationary moment. What now? In forty steps I travel forty years and in a thousand steps a thousand years - or stay where I am and drown the world. Maybe I can undo what I've done and un-run what I've run, and step backwards to the place where I crossed into this web of time where I as the spider tremble the lives of all. But my steps back were not the same as my steps in - no, those steps were untraceable. In my mind's ear I heard the screams as airplanes landed backwards as souls rushed forward to catch flights they'd missed. I could neither move nor not move - a hell of no time as I pulled the strings of all living things with my slightest motion.
It was at that point I realized what I said. I said: not me. I said reality was not for me - I could do anything and be anything and dream anything the universe asked - but not in its reality but on my own terms, my own way - the hope of unreality. In the world of unreality I'd build the perfect empire, devoid of suffering and filled only with dreams of love, every soul a beacon of light and every tenderness treasured. This I offered to the world - all I needed was just one piece of unreality to make it so. Instead, I bent reality, warping it with my will, twisting the lives of those who'd been true.
How could I face them now, the countless lives upended through the seismic tantrums of my quest? I was sure I was nothing - that I should believe I was nothing - that it was right and proper to know I was nothing - and thus nothing would be tangled and nothing would be lost by the running of me. But the insanity was I was everything - the crying baby, the breeze upon the trees, the hopes of a generation - what have I done? I cheated them all. No one understood my need to be without having to be - that if I were to be then all hell would break loose and mankind would end - and now, I had ended it anyway, trapped in a vortex of time, all hope of ever doing good banished by my mere presence.
And so I chose to die.
But I forgot, I was in the time vortex of unreality and my death brought me life, to give up was to begin again. Even with the sorrow I created, reality held the one thing my unreality could never have: hope. To master reality is to submit to reality. My running had taken me far. I sat exhausted, a crumpled soul on the vast dunes of hard times and lonely, loathing winds. How was I to say I'm sorry to the world? Turns out no one knew it was me that wrinkled the fabric of time. Terrified, I took hesitant steps back to the world of the living. I was relieved to hear the children laughed on - and I cried. I knew I had no love to offer them - until one offered me a flower and she asked me why I die.
"Everything is permissible - but not everything is constructive." I Corinthians 10:23
But why should everything be permissible? Can't we just be puppets who are only allowed to do good? Is that not the way to honor life? Or is choice the only way to give life meaning?
We look at the horrors around us - and our course is actually far worse than we've yet to admit - and ask, "Why does God allow it?" But what if the reality is it's up to us? What then? Who do we blame? The universe made me do it? Or do we just throw up our hands and call ourselves inherently defective which means there's no reason to question our suffering, for it then has to be.
In math, if variable x=y then also variable y=x. So if God is love then also love is God. If we were loving, those things wouldn't be happening. So let's substitute the word love in our accusations. How about:
Why does love allow starved and abused children? Why does love allow polluting the globe with poison? Why does love allow lies about the truth? Why does love allow us to be lead to thermonuclear war?
Of course, love doesn't do any of those things. So the real question to ask is: why isn't there more love?
First we block the love from our lives, which then allows hell to reign on earth, and then we cry out asking why love doesn't fix it. That's a heckuva plan, Brownie! 'Why' indeed!
So quit snarking love and quit pretending we are a planet of love. We suffer because we are not a planet of love. A planet of love doesn't look like this one, because love works. It's not like we ever gave love a chance.
Counter argument: "We have the love of money. That's all the love we need."
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But I know the only ones reading this are the kind and the innocent, pure of heart and fountains of love. And yet they suffer too and question why other innocents must also suffer. Long time ago, a truly innocent one named Job asked the same question to God - back when God was still speaking to us. The (very partial) reply:
"Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge? Brace yourself like a man; I will question you; and you will answer me.
"Where were you when I laid the earth's foundation? Tell me, if you understand. Who marked off its dimensions? Surely you know!
"Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place?
"Does the hawk take flight by your wisdom and spread his wings towards the south?
"Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct him? Let him who accuses God answer him!"
Now, say what you will, that's some pretty awesome sarcasm! I was way jealousing when I read that. Certainly, faith is a lot harder when it requires actual faith.
Counter argument: "God is an egomaniac who thinks he knows everything when he doesn't."
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Now, I love this song and I know what he means when he says "love hurts". We've all been there (except for asshole Debby) and know what it's like. But using the x=y law, let us switch around the lyrics:
God hurts, God scars, God wounds, and marks, Any heart, not tough, Or strong, enough To take a lot of pain, Take a lot of pain God is like a cloud Holds a lot of rain God hurts, ooh ooh God hurts
Im young, I know, But even so I know a thing, or two I learned, from you I really learned a lot, Really learned a lot God is like a flame It burns you when its hot God hurts, ooh ooh God hurts
Some fools think of happiness Blissfulness, togetherness Some fools fool themselves I guess They're not foolin' me
I know it isnt true, I know it isnt true God is just a lie, Made to make you blue God hurts, ooh,ooh God hurts Ooh,ooh God hurts
I know it isnt true, I know it isnt true God is just a lie, Made to make you blue God hurts, ooh ooh God hurts Ooh ooh love hurts Ooh ooh...
Sounds a bit silly to our literalist ears that way doesn't it?
Counter argument: "God does not exist, therefore love does not exist."
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Plastic Moses will save you!
Coda: I'm from the planet Xenia and I'm just an observer here. So whatever you fuckers decide to do is fine by me. But it sure would be a fine giggle if you did remember some of these wonderful words.
Take for example, you're at a business meeting and your co-worker Butthead Bob gives a really lame-o suggestion, to which you diplomatically reply: "Everything is permissible but not everything is constructive." [I can tell you, that if you say nothing afterwards and just keep staring at him, he will visibly melt.]
Or suppose you are leading that meeting and you reply thusly to poor Bob: "Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?" You can continue the quote if you deem it necessary to completely insert the sarcastic dagger.
You people would really hate Xenia. It's all sarcasm all the time! We're just looking for other planets we can torture with it.
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Addendum: A Tale Of Two Islands:
OK, I am God (which means nooky and Maseratis for me!!) and I have two equally beautiful islands that I populate with people. One island goes to hell: they chop down the trees, make war on each other, vote Republican - just fighting all the time until no one can be anything but miserable. The second island lives a dream: sharing and caring, always seeking what it takes to live in harmony with nature - angerless and true.
So I did a survey of what they thought of me on the first island: "Asshole!" "Fucker" "You ruin everything!" "Don't give a fuck about us at all!" But on the second island: "Thank you!" "This is paradise!" "We seek only to repay you!" "Life, it's a dream!"
Huh, how 'bout dat! Wonder who is lying??
So I send a messenger to the first island, to let them know their lives could be better. Only he was killed in the most gruesome manor possible. And, in fact, many people started to blame the messenger for their woes! (starting a very fine tradition of blaming and killing)
So as God, that left me with nothing left to do for the first island since I can't live their lives for them and, uh, oh yeah: fuck you, too.
"I'm the Neo Blade Runner. I'm here to protect you from those who will destroy you from within. There's been a nasty spat of female Republicants running loose lately and it's time we got it under control.
"Don't let your guard down just because they're females. Like a stubborn tick, they embed themselves with suffocating tentacles around your heart, hoping to squeeze out what little life you have left. Straight from the Stepford factory, they come with any critical thought disabled. Republicant males like them that way, sort of their own personal groupie.
"Relationships between Republicant sexes are like a dog with its master. Only these dogs never question their master - especially with a diamond studded collar as a bribe. And like any good animal, they protect their master from all attacks, never stopping to reason - just biting first and not asking questions later. Cruel little bitches.
"They see what works for them and they stick to it. Yeah, they seem docile on the surface, but try and touch that diamond collar and your friends'll be calling you Lefty. And don't ever compliment one unless you want to call her a "good dog". Any real praise pisses them off. Makes them think they're supposed to be human - and that's the thought they hate most of all." ----------------------------------------------
I called her a bitch and she thanked me.
Republicant woman, stay away from me Republicant woman, mama let me be Don't come here hanging around my door I don't want to see your face no more I got more important things to do Than spend my time growin' old with you Now woman, I said stay away Republicant woman, listen what I say
"Only bad people ask questions!"
Republicant woman, get away from me Republicant woman, mama let me be Don't come here knocking around my door Don't want to see your shadow no more Colored lights can hypnotize Sparkle someone else's eyes Now woman, I said get away Republicant woman, listen what I say
"Sorry all you war widows, no one has suffered more than my husband!"
Republicant woman, I said get way Republicant woman, listen what I say Don't come here hanging around my door Don't want to see your face no more I don't need your war machines I don't need your ghetto scenes Colored lights can hypnotize Sparkle someone else's eyes Now woman, get away from me Republicant woman, mama let me be
"I just uploaded my latest orgy to Facebook!"
Go, gotta get away, gotta get away, now go go go I'm gonna leave you, woman Gotta leave you, woman Bye bye, bye bye Bye bye, bye bye You're no good for me I'm no good for you Gonna look at you right in the eye Tell you what I'm gonna do You know I'm gonna leave You know I'm gonna go You know I'm gonna leave You know I'm gonna go, woman I'm gonna leave you, woman Goodbye, Republicant woman
"There are some people, and I'm one of them, that believe [the anti-Christ 43rd President] was placed where he is by the Lord," spoke [the Republicant Soccer Mom]. "I don't care how he governs, I will support him. I'm a [reptile] through and through."
In Hollywood's Golden Age, it seems some of its stars were not what they seemed to be. Adored by the public, revered by their peers, only their children knew the truth of their hidden cruelty. But no one wanted to hear the truth these children had to share. No one wanted the illusion shattered.
I feel like a such a child.
It was right before the midterm elections of 2006 when I saw Iraq For Sale: The War Profiteers, a shocking revelation of greed gone wild. Shameless, soulless and unrepentant, the money grab being conducted there was (is) the most vile act of systemic inhumanity since slavery. But what should have been a firestorm of outrage passed without a whimper. No one wanted the illusion of who we are to be shattered.
Yet illusion is the enemy of survival.
It's what you do in the dark the defines you:
Cost Plus Contracts: A "cost plus contract" states that all your expenses will be paid plus a guaranteed percentage profit added on top. The more you spend, the more you make. And spend they did! Food needlessly catered daily to the five star hotels where employees resided. Your eighteen-wheeler has a flat? Torch the whole rig and get a new one! And everyone has a nice ride in the place where there's nowhere to go. Ever lease an SUV for a quarter million? If you're an American taxpayer you have.
Operation Iraqi Freedom, it turns out, was never a war against Saddam Hussein's Iraq. It was an invasion of the federal budget, and no occupying force in history has ever been this efficient. [The anti-Christ 43rd President]'s war in the Mesopotamian desert was an experiment of sorts, a crude first take at his vision of a fully privatized American government. In Iraq the lines between essential government services and for-profit enterprises have been blurred to the point of absurdity — to the point where wounded soldiers have to pay retail prices for fresh underwear, where modern-day chattel are imported from the Third World at slave wages to peel the potatoes we once assigned to grunts in KP, where private companies are guaranteed huge profits no matter how badly they fuck things up.
Blatant disregard for human life: Yes, God help the Third Worlder in the hands on an Iraqi contractor. The savagely poor from the surrounding countries flooded in only to be treated as those whose lives and welfare have no meaning whatsoever. They were the ones sent through the danger zones to be maimed - or killed - and then thrown away as an eager replacement stepped in to take his place.
Poisoned troops: Nor were our own troops spared. Forced to ingest spoiled food and rancid water, they returned as ticking time bombs with the bacteria they absorbed. Others weren't so lucky: they were electrocuted in the shower. The list goes on and none of these were honest mistakes or non-preventable. It's just that when something gets in the way of a quick buck - like our soldier's health - all pretense of ethics or concern go right out the window. It's OK, no one wants to know what we're really doing here anyway!
Ever since then I've been waiting for this (little heralded) headline:
His rhetoric - as usual - is correct: "It starts with reforming our broken system of government contracting," Obama said. "There is a fundamental public trust that we must uphold. The American people's money must be spent to advance their priorities, not to line the pockets of contractors or to maintain projects that don't work."
Republicants were pissed (notice no denial of fraud): House GOP leader John Boehner of Ohio said if Obama really wanted to cut waste he would veto the pending $410 billion catchall spending bill and its more than 8,000 earmarks. The White House has indicated Obama will not. "We need to start seeing some semblance of fiscal discipline," Boehner said [with a straight face].
But as always, it's the underlying rot that enables it happen: "If you want the money managed better, let's get some people on the ground to plan, write better contracts, negotiate better agreements, and then manage the relationship after the contracts have been awarded," [George Washington University law professor] Schooner said. "Everybody who knows anything knows that we've broken the acquisition work force."
No Motel 6 on a cost plus contract!
The clarity of vision, the single-minded purposeness and the ruthless execution of wholesale destruction of the inner core of our government over the past eight years will take an equal determination to fix. This abortion of government oversight and competence was committed with the religious zeal of fanatics. What's most disturbing, though, is they will get away with it (well, good luck in the afterlife, dear hearts).
And do you REALLY think the Republicants want fiscal responsibility? No, their wet dream is the legalization of greed. Wasting tens (hundreds) of billions of dollars in the name of greed bothers them not. People dying for greed makes them giggle! (Let's get them kids back in the coal mines! Free markets, dammit!) To them, the more suffering inflicted by greed only proves its righteousness. For it is only for a true god for whom you can justly suffer.
So where was 60 Minutes? Where were the congressional hearings? Where was the outrage of the American people? America didn't want to know. Willful ignorance got us into the war and so we doubled down and bet willful ignorance could keep our self-image of always fighting for purity, freedom and justice intact (hey, how'd that willful ignorance bit work on the economic front??). Alas, it will be biting historians who will be writing the book called "America Dearest". I can just imagine how much they will loathe us into infamy.
"Harry over there says he's some sort of fucking prophet, let's ask him what for."
I groaned realizing my mouth had once more led me to a place I did not want to be. But I figured if I threw enough obstacles in the way they'd back off. God knows they couldn't be serious.
George was always the ringleader. He knew this ad hoc mob would cause me grief because he's just another conservative cunt lick and we instinctively hated each other. "Hey, Harry, tell us the future! You know so much, you're always spoutin' off, why don't you just set us right and tell us what will happen?"
George was a large man and his shit-eatin' grin loomed over me as I sat in the shade of the park bench. His true joy was in knowing that the mindless cast of thousands he'd whipped up would all be expecting some sort of answer from me for having previously painted myself into a verbal corner. I decided to exercise the Peter Principle and go with an unsatisfactory truth: "Because I could tell you and you still wouldn't know."
It's those kind of answers that piss George off the most. I knew that because he was the one who most engaged in happy talk for his life and that comment insinuated he was self-deceived. But he knew he held the trump card with the slobbering hounds surrounding him who wouldn't settle for less. "What kind of chickenshit answer is that? What are you saying? That we're too dumb to understand?" inquiring minds wanted to know.
"Yeah, pretty much," I nodded, bluffing his sorry ass out.
George figured he had me cornered with his line of inquisition but I gleefully noticed I was in possession of his goat. "You know what you are? A fucking fraud! All you do is bitch and everyone here is sick of it. You got nothing real to say. The only reason you're homeless is because you can't get laid!"
Goddam him! I didn't think he'd play the loser card. Maybe I was too effective. Fucking bastard has my goat now. "Look, Igor, I'm such a fraud then why care what I have to say? Leave me the fuck alone. OK?"
Here they come to roust me. There's George on the end.
Stalemate. But then freakin' flowers-for-Algernon Charlie steps in. "Hey, Harry, some of us here really would like to hear what you have to say. I don't think you're a fraud. Stuff you say makes real sense sometimes."
Oh, for God's sake. Having cut myself off from my real life I'm stuck being beholden to these clowns. I can't take any more loneliness. Butthead George knows that. He's still pissed but I see a smirk out of the corner of his mouth. But I still have some artillery left.
"You want the truth? You can't handle the truth! So if you want me to go through all that grief I better get something out of it."
George, I knew, never gives up anything - just like the rat bastard greedy conservative that he is. So that just leaves Charlie to keep things going. "OK, Harry, whatcha want?"
Aw, fuck. A true believer. That's so suffocating. But I just can't keep quiet all the time. I can't! And I guess if you speak long enough with enough conviction you'll end up with some sort of following - no matter how full of shit you may be. It all came down to whether I had the integrity to let them see me as the fraud I really am and let it go.
"I want a Whopper and fries!"
Lovely, I sold my soul for a hamburger. Well, I figured since I wasn't getting anything for it before, that a Whopper had to be a step up, right? Who knows, maybe I could parlay my rants into being sponsored by Burger King like that fat guy did with Subway (or whatever that guy did).
Eh, maybe I don't want to be spokesman after all.
George was actually pissed that Charlie caved in to me until he noticed the pained look on my face and saw a fresh opportunity to inflict more misery. "No Whopper! But we'll get you a Big Mac," proposed the devious prick. He knew I hated Big Macs with their meat-like substance and day old lettuce. But this way he gets to appear reasonable while at the same time sticking it to me. Jesus, Middle East peace talks were never this complicated.
"No, man, I want a Whopper or the deal's off!" I couldn't directly attack the Big Mac or I would infuriate the Big Mac contingency. So I had to make out like I was a man of integrity who was sticking to his guns for what he wanted. With this crowd, that garnered great respect - if they believed you.
"It's OK," complied Charlie, "We'll get you a Whopper, just like you want it." Then I watched in horror as everyone - except George - pitched in money to get me a Whopper and young Freddie ran off to get it. Are you freaking kidding me? Now I was completely trapped. Charlie's innocence filled in where George's selfishness was lacking. One or the other I could have handled - but not both. Now all eyes were on me.
"Look guys..." I tried to squirm out of it, but no takers. "OK, the future is what I've always said it would be: love. Love is the only thing that is real. Everything that is unreal will pass away. It's like two trees" - an old analogy of mine - "one accepts water (love) and the other does not. For a time it doesn't seem love is necessary because both are alive, but eventually nature catches up with everybody. Simple as that."
Hey, that came out better than I thought. Whopper worthy? Probably not. But good enough to get them off my back? God, I hope so.
"I like that," smiled Charlie, and he was serene. He didn't know it, but he had just truly fed me. But others were mumbling, and catching on to that, my nemesis led the charge.
Here's what happens when you tell George his kid sister gave you a hand job.
"That's all bullshit. We want to know what's going to happen now. Not ten thousand years from now. You gotta tell us if Obama's for real and stuff like that!" Igor's grin was in full bloom now, hoping to damn me with specifics. Well, reality is nothing is written in stone but the howling masses needed meat and that would sound like an excuse. I don't like sharing private thoughts, most people are closed-minded and hear something different than what you actually say. I tried to walk the tightrope.
"OK, it's like I told this other guy, Obama will fix up the house, clean out some dirt, make some improvements but all the while fail to put out its fire. In time, we too will learn to ignore the fire and falsely hope we can live with it and won't have to get a new house. For a brief window we'll think we can have our fire and live there too. There will be much rejoicing that we have "won". This allows the fire to rage out of control and at that point there's no stopping it and we'll all act real surprised we're fucked because we're such innocent sweethearts. The Bible speaks of seals and that's what that means: we are taking steps that seal our doom all in the name of saving ourselves. Funny, huh?"
I was expecting an uproar but instead got a quiet dispersal. Shit, by saying all that did I help make it all come true? The homeless are far more open-minded to change than most but even they like the idea of a happy outcome since they are society's most vulnerable members. I was just speaking of a logical progression down the road we're on, not some fucking mandate we do all that crazy shit. It's true, we are buying the stairway to heaven, but who says we have to? We might start putting out the fire tomorrow.
I sat alone in silence but with very loud thoughts. God, why can't I keep my mouth shut and not sell myself out all the time? When the burger came, I didn't want to eat it. (But I had to in order to be practical.)
As I was walking down the street one day A man came up to me and asked me what the time was that was on my watch, yeah And I said:
The wars aren't ending, my friends. They're just beginning.
Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? If so I can't imagine why We've all got time enough to cry
Equals the GDP of Ethiopia
And I was walking down the street one day A pretty lady looked at me and said her diamond watch had stopped cold dead And I said:
Never too young to learn the value of a dollar!
Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? If so I can't imagine why We've all got time enough to cry
It's a scary world out there!
And I was walking down the street one day Being pushed and shoved by people trying to beat the clock, oh, no I just don't know I don't know And I said, yes I said:
So this is our plan, eh?
People runnin' everywhere Don't know where to go Don't know where I am Can't see past the next step Don't have time to think past the last mile Have no time to look around Just run around, run around and think why.
How much longer can we rape?
Does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? If so I can't imagine why We've all got time enough to die.
Time to love, that's what time it is.
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"I'm optimistic on the future of mankind. We've survived countless wars, sweeping plagues and even our own inner turmoil. The human spirit has proven indominatable! Even as I look around us today, I do not despair - nor shall I. Ultimately, our will to survive will win out as it always does and mankind will continue to soar to ever new heights and hopes."
If I were to say that sort of vile crap in front of a group of people, you monkeys would applaud and give me a standing ovation. I just wanted to show I can engage in the same sort of feel-good self-talk as anyone else. But there's a word for optimism not based on reality: suicide. I guess we think that if we applaud our happy talk loud enough, we can fool nature as to what we're really doing - and therefore our time would be endless.
