It was the age of the damned. I lived wearing commuter sandals, on Starbuck’s Intravenous®, in high town, implanted with GoogleMind™, constantly checking facebook obituaries©, and sat under the umbrella of a healthy distaste for the day before. I invented things that went to shit, like the homogenizer for the old, basically a recycling product for everyday use, but it made sense when the government came knocking on my doorstep, claiming what I had done was beyond “unethical”: a true crime against humanity. They say “against,” but I say “for the sake of.”
Leading the blind into the trenches was my first day in jail. They asked how it was I got away with it. How, in all that time, did those old folks who, for lack of a better term, asked for assisted suicide and parted ways with their bodies to be ground into materials for everyday use (paper, pencils, cloth, etc.) not have family members trying to ground me? An urn is an urn, I tell them, until it becomes a fixture on the mantel. Then it is a gentle reminder. Same with pencils, pens, T-Shirts, floorboard covers, air fresheners, drink coasters, bows for violins, hair for violins, and everything else we used.
One can’t remember what it was like before, before everything was done in factories and mass produced for a degenerative society. Consume and be fed. Starve the countries surrounding until we are an overpopulated, obese mass of glue. Our power was not in our strength, but in our absolute sensationalism. The news made remarks of glamour about our obstinate views. The bipartisan legislature never left and problems were never solved. Earth’s motto was, “Tomorrow is a better day for success.”
The success was in catastrophic failure, the denial of the human being, and the ultimate suffering of the ego established circa birth. Arms were carried, arms from other human beings, arms from the dead soldiers in wars fought by ghost ideals, arms from the founding fathers who no longer could sign in pen a Declaration of Anything, arms for the sake of arming oneself. When the general population was disarmed by its own subversion, it was disarmed. This resolute resolve was finality.
Perhaps we will be forgotten. There is nothing to learn from this generation.