Wishbone

We are on the precipice

of some new shit.

I guess you could call it

evolution.

And maybe we should take a moment and pray

we are entering an age

of enlightenment

of higher intelligence

(like God is),

and we are leaving behind all the confusion

about what is truly important.

Or,

let’s be honest,

that isn’t what’s going to happen.

And maybe nothing changes.

And this is purgatory:

this existence.

Because the desire to achieve anything less

than spiritual, emotional, behavioral perfection

is a weight hanging against our chest,

like an anvil necklace.

Or maybe we are at the edge…of apocalypse.

I’d like to think the road goes further,

but it feels bumpy and not so secure,

like an old, wooden bridge.

And, maybe, on the other side is more of what has been:

hatred

and a distaste for blessed things,

when moments make way for objects;

when hearts are replaced by wallets.

Most days, I feel less like a person

and more like an ATM,

but one that’s broken.

Cash isn’t what I dispense,

only excuses.

I’m hopeless.

And it doesn’t seem to matter how many technicians I encounter;

I can’t be fixed.

What I’m trying to say is:

I’m a poor, pitiful, useless device designed for facilitating commerce.

Nothing more,

nothing less.

And, when ninety-nine percent of us feel the same way,

and we aren’t enjoying the game we’re playing,

I think, unanimously, we all would like to see

the world just end instead.

But

there’s always another solution to annihilation,

a remedy for these feelings of being disillusioned:

we could choose,

rather than

disposing of all one-hundred percent of us,

we could simply wipe out the top one percent instead.

We could,

right now,

300 million of us in the U.S.,

just walk over to Gates, Bezos, Zuckerberg, Musk, Buffet, each of the Waltons, and all the rest,

and we could take everything from them:

we could all get rich in a second.

And we could take over the means of production.

Because there are no rules but the ones we’ve written

and chosen to follow.

I know.

This sounds dangerously like the start of a revolution.

Because it is.

We need to stop being so scared of our government,

because, in martyrdom, we prove we were right all along.

And: fuck it,

I’d rather die trying to make change for the better

than live in a world that‘s corrupt enough to allow some of these muppets running things to get

out ahead.

Ted fuckin’ Cruz?

Are we for real?

Is this the best we can do?!

That guy is a six foot tall bag of discarded Big Mac packages

(the box corners are hidden by his suit jacket),

and his arms are stamped with the corporate logo of Philip-Morris

(they’ve been twisted like cigarettes).

His teeth, if you look closely enough, display traces of lead.

And how can anybody listen to the nonsense Andrew Tate has said?

That guy has taken so many kicks to the head,

and he wanted it.

He went out and met somebody and they got dressed.

I imagine they wore little biker short kind of things,

and they stepped into a ring,

I guess?

Could have been a backyard or warehouse.

I don’t know.

The point is,

that is what he set out to do that day.

And now thousands of adolescent boys and adult men rely on him to delineate between reality

and what’s fake.

It’s kinda like what I said

earlier:

apparently we want to end up dead.

A smartphone is like a fork in every pocket,

it can be a conduit to intellectual nourishment.

But people like Alex Jones and Jordan Peterson are an outlet

and the simplest of us are running toward them with these handheld devices outstretched,

and nobody’s around to stop them.

They’re gonna start an electrical fire that burns down the house we’re all living in,

these full-grown children with absolutely no comprehension of their emotions.

Joe Rogan is a guy who will look you right in the eye and tell you it’s wrong to listen to the

advice of thousands of professionals whom are medically trained.

And that motherfucker probably has holes in his brain from DMT or MMA.

So nearly half the country is afraid

of nothing,

something made-up

and the rest of us

are scared of them.

Because, more than nukes, AK-47’s or any other weapon,

we are more likely to be destroyed by stupid.

So maybe the ultimate revolution will be for progressives to be elected to oversee public

education.

But what do I know?

I’ve only got a GED

and an Associate’s degree

from a community college.

But this is exactly why logic is so important to me,

because, even without the logo of a renowned alma mater stitched to my sleeve,

I still know I’ll get wet when it rains if I don’t have something trustworthy to cover me.

And I would prefer the umbrella be built of, by, and for me,

But, once getting soaked becomes an entire industry,

stopping the business of getting drenched would be bad for our economy.

So we will do anything we can to keep the rain falling

even if it means

watching people flail,

powerless to stop themselves from drowning.

These wealthy elites will only ever have us believe that our existence is the consequence of how

the cosmic wishbone was broken.

But it isn’t.

We don’t have to play that game.

We don’t have to grab either end.

We can walk away and determine what’s best for the next generation.

We don’t have to listen when they claim this is how it’s always been.

Real change can be implemented.

Fuck shaking the tree which was planted in 1492.

It’s only been pruned a few times,

like in 1776.

But it’s fruit has only ever been rotten.

So, let’s cut it down and dig up the roots.

Let’s bury seeds of kindness and love and equity instead.

Let’s start all over again.

I know.

This sounds dangerously like the beginning of a revolution.

Because it is.