Madonna and the Diminishing Returns of Professional Trolldom

In those halcyon days when personal computers were the size of small washing machines and were booted from a pair of floppy disks, there was a text game called Temple of Loth.  Temple of Loth consisted only of text, sometimes spat at the player in the form of a grid meant to represent a map of a Dungeons and Dragons-like set of mystery rooms.

If you modern kids think this sounds a little hilarious, you would have crapped yourselves upon hearing the sounds.  Loth stretched the basic sine wave to its hard 1980s limits, uttering drones, screeches, and eclectic robot-y fart sounds.  

In the Temple of Loth, one spent an inordinate amount of time collecting resources from various rooms and avoiding attacks by monsters.  However, if the game got boring, or if perhaps you had won it and wanted to play it with a different approach, you could steal, kill, and pillage instead of cooperating.  You could attack instead of trade with or ignore.

In other words, you could be a troll.

In the game of life, pop star Madonna is the ultimate professional troll.  Far from the Michigan proletarian gutter trash that spawned her, she has clawed her way to the top of the garbage heap and now occupies a semi-permanent townhouse in the hallowed halls of ‘Murican celebrities, those chosen ones who get to rub altered noses with the one percent (and their wive’s surgeons) at fancy parties.

She did not get to this level by being kind or fighting against actual injustice.   She got there by closing her eyes and pretending whatever/whomever she was doing at the time wasn’t distasteful and disgusting.  She kept doing these things until her sentimental human heart gave up and died. It’s not easy being a troll. Legacy Tho

The gift that keeps on giving

Madonna has given us much, regardless of the fact we can’t return it.  Falsely credited by many stans and herself for inventing the women’s rights movement, she has gifted us with so much more: she paved the way for Kim Kardashian, who claims to have revolutionized interracial dating by letting a guy who did not share her skin color pee on her. This only mattered because it occurred during a time when she was cute did not look like an alien, bulbous species of android fish.  
Back in 1983, it was still considered somewhat shocking when a woman bared her butt cheeks or let her boobs flap free in the wind.  For Madonna, 1983 never ended.  In her mind, the current calendar date is but a long nightmare from which she will awaken, refreshed and legitimately bouncy-faced young again.  Instead, her existence is an ongoing hell of getting older and older, wrinkles and sags popping up in a vicious game of Whack-A-Mole to which she must react by running to her surgeon and painfully mutilating her once-pretty face again and again.  Without an abundance of athletic duct tape, her once firm ass droops like underfull Ziplock bags of vanilla pudding despite a punishing regime of three hour a day weight training and the bland diet preferred by self-castigating Buddhist monks.   Isn't it sad and a little funny when rich people can't even enjoy their money?

Also unhelpful is an unfortunate pill-eating and wine-chugging habit, which has resulted more than a few onstage drunken rants and tricycle riding, plus the soiling of a reputation for once being a punctual, professional entertainer.

The ouchiest part is ripping the duct tape off before going to bed.

When Bullies Grow Up
The painful part of being the popular bully comes when the bully is no longer young enough to attend high school.  Madonna was lucky -- her bully pulpit stretched over many decades, during which time many admirers bought her brand without checking the label.  Now her reign as Mountain King is over, and wannabe Evita/Marilyn/Danerys anything but an old, lonely, tacky, rich auntie sucking down bottles of wine in her gilded New York condo bathroom isn’t adjusting well.  It seems apparent Madonna’s particular poisoned dream is to fall in passionate love, that old timey heterosexual princess-rescued-by-a-handsome-prince trope.  Never mind that she’s tried it several times and it did not work out.  She’s still invested, which is why she believes she must look like the Mother of Dragons character in Game of Thrones instead of what she has achieved: the low rent AHS Freakshow version of Daphne from Dragon's Lair if Daphne suddenly transformed into the bathtub hag from the Kubrick version of the Shining.  

Time for your bath!

Ageism!

Because the super-rich feel a compulsive need to justify their existences (despite their protests having little effect to the masses, who simply wish to see their heads on pikes a la the “Let ‘em eat cake” era of 18th century France), Madonna pretends to champion women’s rights and to take a stand against ageism.  “They are judging me by age,” she complained to Rolling Stone.

Translation from the Bullshitese:

“Nobody cares about when I flash my tits anymore, so like a true troll, I do whatever I can to embarrass and humiliate my children, including publicly criticizing my teenage son’s lack of visible protruding genitalia during a backflip.  I can’t bring myself to admit I’m a garden variety attention whore though, so Imma gonna pretend this has something to do with me being over fifty-five and female.”

The crux of Madonna’s worsening predicament is it is much easier to be a Mean Girl if you are pretty and well, still a girl.  Yes, kiddies, it’s easier and more fun just to log off the old 486 and go outside and play.  For Madonna, such an alternative just isn’t possible, because she would have to actually be musical for that.

Being Vegan is Expensive: How Dare You?

The myth of the plant-based diet aspect of veganism as expensive is rubber-check, three dollar bill false, put forth by mendacious, First World “experts” who have recently converted to the Whole30 diet and silly fads like it. Any vegan, who by definition chooses not to eat or use animals for the sake of the animals, should be downright insulted by the mere insinuation being vegan is expensive.

For me, this accusation of pricey veganism hits home hard. I decided to become an ethical vegan on July 26, 2010, one of the worst personal finance eras I ever hope not to experience again in this lifetime. My husband lost his job through no fault of his own when the company he worked for failed and shut down. Every bill, including running my own small business, keeping a roof overhead, various insurances, and eventually a new car (for him) fell to me and his meager unemployment. If vegan food is expensive as they say, we both would have starved to death. At $18.46, a pair of factory farmed steaks destined for one third of a meat-eater’s meal was slightly more than my food budget for two hearty vegan eaters FOR ONE WEEK. Gwyneth Paltrow may not know how to shop the dollar store and Aldi to keep her family alive on pennies, but I figured it out fast.

A packet of factory farmed chicken’s thighs from my local grocery store costs $5.36. This is after the US government spends $38 billion to help out the meat and dairy industries, with a paltry $17 million put aside for subsidizing fruits and vegetables.

If these subsidies were suddenly removed, the meat and dairy industries would go bankrupt because a steak that previously cost $8 would skyrocket to $45. Animal exploitation industries are that pathetic – though it doesn’t take a genius to know there is no way to make systematic murder easy, clean, or cheap. On the plus side, if meat and dairy subsidies were removed, the average person would see her overall health act as if she had reversed in age by 5 – 30 years, impoverishing countless oncologists and taking away the assumed privilege of numerous specialists to take tri-annual jet vacations. I won’t feel sorry for the former horsey set, as I will remember how they made an industry from the suffering of the ignorant and brainwashed who spent their last dollars on cancer-causing radiation “therapy”, which did nothing but exacerbate the pain and suffering of the Death of A Thousand Cuts. Those parasites would be lucky to get a kick in the stomach from me to speed their demise as they lay flopping in the gutter.

The belief in lies like “vegan is expensive” or “vegan is unhealthy because soy” comes from a necrovore’s need to project guilt and shame on someone who is no longer engaging in dastardly behavior. The construct is very simple. When someone claims that being vegan is expensive, she is desperately scrambling for an excuse that will justify her physical and mental addiction to animal products. Much like my grandma, who clung to emphysema-causing cigarettes until the day she died of complications due to smoking, there’s always an excuse at the ready because a severe addict believes she will die if access to the substance is cut off.

That is why it deeply frightens meat eaters when I say I would rather die if it was between me and a pig on that fabled desert island we are always visiting in hypothetical scenarios. They are terrified by the idea of a modern person being willing to die for a cause, in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer. If vegan was expensive and unhealthy, yes, I would still do it, even if it killed me. I am that punk rock! Lucky for me and the growing mass of ethical vegans out there, plant-based diets are neither expensive nor hardcore.

Death and the Fetus

You may wonder just how my convoluted little brain ties together the rise of the American obese, the prevalence of kiddy-diddlers and homosexuals among seemingly innocuous old guys, and a woman's right to choose to have an abortion.  Or perhaps you don't wonder at all.  It doesn't matter -- I'll tell you anyway!  

Statistics have it that sixty percent of Americans are overweight to obese.  From what I saw in the parking lot of a crowded movie theater on a Friday night in my Midwestern neck of the woods, I would say that number is more like seventy or even eighty percent, especially among the current crop of young people.  At forty-one, I was one of the oldest people in the parking lot besides my husband.  An astounding amount of people were so fat, they could barely walk a distance of seventy-five feet from car to movie theater door.  The word “waddle/wattle” comes to mind, not only to describe their ambulation but also the giant, flapping things under their chins where their necks should have been.  Perhaps I will say more about the obesity phenomenon and the car culture fueling it in a future essay.  For now, I will wrap up this part of the discussion by commenting that it’s a damn shame that kids half my age are wasting the best, healthiest, sexiest years they’ll ever see on oversized corn syrup drinks, chemical cheese goo-product, and barbecued pig corpses with fries.  


King James, That Bible Guy, was a flaming homosexual.

What do a bunch of fat people have to do with Josh Duggar, the reality show Christian zealot whose parents swept their teenage boy's serial sexual abuse of his younger sisters and various other little girls under the rug?  And what does any of it have to do with abortion?

In a word, patriarchy.  In two?  Abrahamic religions.  

Christianity is one of three nature-hating death worship cults that sprung to world domination after the fall of the Roman Empire.  Judaism, the least of the cults, has been persecuted for reasons I'll never truly understand, so maybe someone can inform me.  Islam is a brand of Abrahamic religion that claims to be about peace but is really about submission or the not-so-nice term for it, slavery.  Islam is Christianity's equal in hypocrisy and oppression.  Muslims just do a better job of following their insane orders than Christians, hence the animosity between two who are clearly fraternal twins.

All three Abrahamic orthodoxies enforce a pathological hatred of Gaia by placing mankind (with womankind at his beck and call) at the top of a pyramid scheme rigged for Apocalypse.  The trees?  Cut them down; there will be more of them in the next world, where they will be taller and sparkly and produce fruit constantly.  The animals?  They are here for our use, so we can skin them and eat them and make them haul our loads of chopped-down trees, or dance for us when we are bored.   Nature and its complex majesty is nowhere near good enough is what the three fatherly religions say: it's all about Heaven and what hoops one must jump through to get there.  Also, it doesn't really matter what you do while you're on Gaia just as long as you truly ask for forgiveness right before you die, even though there is supposedly a rule about doing unto others.  There are also rules about persecuting gays, Hindus, shellfish eaters, female teachers, or anyone else who doesn't fit into the Bible's mold of Golden City-bound righteousness.  

The whole mess is fueled by a pathological fear of death.  Almost all human beings come to the precipice of psychotic break when they are faced by the idea that they might completely lose their current idea of consciousness when they physically die.  In order to avoid the extreme dissonance of such a possibility, most people's egos go insane with rationalizations.  Patriarchal, zombie unigod religions are currently de rigueur.  Atheists and agnostics, or those who apparently have overcome a fear that is supposed to be innate and chronic, are thusly hated by the faithful, much like an alcoholic on his last three viable liver cells resents the happy teetotaler bicycling around the nursing home.  

Christians have a conveniently packaged dogma that, much like a video game, gives them an imaginary set of rules in book form that enables them to get to the Final Boss so they may escape Eternal Death.  When you dwell in a reality that is merely a pathway to another level with a bigger payload/boss, you may cherry pick which rules you think will get you to the better, more luxurious level.  

The only rule that is an absolute must for avoiding Eternal Death is faith.  Faith, or the deliberate act of sticking your fingers in your ears and screaming "No-no-no-no!" when presented with evidence contrary to your beliefs, is the sine qua non of all successful religions.  Any of the other rules can be bent, modified, or perverted according to whim.  Especially one as silly as overeating, to which Proverbs 23:2 suggests:

"And put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony."

The Bible, book of love and peace, tells us in no uncertain terms to attempt suicide if we cannot help a habit of compulsive binge eating.  Okay.

The Bible also condemns homosexuals, lumping them in the same general categories as overeaters and adulterers, labeling them as just another set who cannot control their Earthly longings.  So one might find it surprising that one of the most revered editions of the Bible, the King James Version, was compiled by a flaming homosexual.  Often affectionately referred to as Queen James, "the wisest fool in Christendom" paraded his lusty homoerotic exploits to the chagrin of his court and his country.   For a group that has made a sport of murdering witches and persecuting gays, Christians seem awfully unapologetic about stamping the name of a known Sodomite on a prized edition of their holy book.  

The reason it's hunky dory to become the Greyhound bus version of yourself in 'Murica is because you are allowed to immolate yourself without dying the true death.  Mortification of the flesh and overconsumption of the non-boss level planet you are stuck on for now is encouraged.  Why tread lightly when you can personally collect all the gold coins and mana?   It's all going to get blown up in the end, at any rate.  

Christianity is a capitalist's religion: even in its sheepherder beginnings, the point was to be born male and to amass as many heads of cattle/goats/women as possible.  The big problem there is when you don't think of women as actual human beings and when your admiration of them is confined to awe of the power they lord over you with their beguiling, concave genitalia and mammary glands, you are going to inevitably turn to children, animals, and even other men when your demonic male hormones gain the upper hand (with no lack of assistance from your meaty, milky GMO-rich diet).  I would venture a bet there is not a single Christian child-molester or closet buggerer who views women as sentient equals.  

A sentient equal would be entitled to control what happens inside her own body, even when the biological process is as important to the species as birth.  None of the patriarchal, capitalist sects want any part of that, so they seek to enforce control over the fetus growing inside the female drone, though they will hasten to abandon the offspring once it is born and requires social services and welfare.    

If religions eventually die of their own hypocrisy, which I believe they all do, Christianity, Islam, and Judaism are in a very extended hospice.  Unfortunately, I suffer from a belief that the patriarchal mandate to overpopulate Gaia with 7.3 billion and counting will result in the sort of nastiness that occurs in a Petri dish of yeast when a spoonful of sugar is introduced.  Unlike when Christians try to produce proof of the non-existence of the true death, my suspicions keep being bolstered by hard, concrete evidence.  Unlike the good and righteous faithful, I hope my assumptions are wrong.  

An Open Letter To My Friends Who Have Kids

Guess what?

I don't care that you had kids.

 I know you think the world has stopped so it can start revolving around you and your child, however, not much has changed since you added another member to the human race.

Nobody cares that you don't sleep anymore, except perhaps the spouse you yelled at or the person you cut off in traffic. Nobody cares about your breast milk decisions. Nobody cares that your life got a lot harder when you decided to procreate.

In fact, I don't even care that you no longer have time to hang out with me like we once used to because your priorities are so radically changed. I don't judge you -- the reason I did not have children is because I, just like you, realize it is a full time job.

You wanted that job. I did not.

What's going on here is pretty simple. People change. Friends grow apart. It's a sad reality of life, but it's not abnormal. You have embraced a lifestyle I do not understand. It's as if you decided to take up an odd, all-consuming hobby, and if you are honest with yourself, you don't have time for me either.

Imagine I become an avid collector of nineteenth century watercolors. Where you see a lovely picture, I foment an obsession. Suddenly, I eat, breathe, and poop nineteenth century paintings. They're all I can talk about and I spend inordinate amounts of money on them. Often, it is money I don't have because I love them so much. My habits change. I hang out mostly with friends who are passionate about Romantic-era portraiture and landscapes like me. I go to chatrooms and attend conventions.

I love nineteenth century art but I do not expect anyone else to embrace my crazy passion for it. Why would I? You get the idea.

This is what you have become, except of course the art in question is small human beings. There's nothing wrong with your hobby, but don't expect me to understand when you complain about spending your last dollar on a lifestyle you chose. If you have half a brain, you knew what you were getting into and you readied yourself as much as possible.

However, to me, childrearing is a weird, expensive hobby of yours that frankly I don't want much to do with. Please don't presume I hate children because I chose deliberately not to have them. Nothing could be further from the truth. Would I assume you hate all nineteenth century art if you did not devote your life to collecting it like me?

You are not a hero, either, unless you purposefully chose to adopt or foster instead of having babies. Why? The writing is on the wall. Humans are overpopulated. For every human baby added, there are measurable costs in resource depletion and ecological devastation. You've done something that is ultimately self-indulgent and driven by biological urge and the fear that you will die.

I don't admire you for kowtowing to societal pressures. I know what the pressures are because the same ones were on me. If I had a dollar for everyone who asked me when I was having children or if I did already, I would be quite wealthy.

You are aware of the pitfalls of your decision to bring children into an already-overcrowded world. If I ignite your cognitive dissonance by reminding you that there are other choices you might have made, that's on you.

The reason I did not become a parent is because it isn't for me. If it isn't for you either, and that's exactly what it seems like when you spend all of your time telling me how hard parenting is, then you've got yourself a real problem I cannot help you with. There is no miracle in what you've done. You are going to have to face that.

The decision you have made is a common one, smiled upon by an insane society that fails to recognize ecosystems we all depend on are falling apart at the seams because there are too many of us. We cannot have infinite growth on a finite planet. Your progeny, not mine, is going to have to deal with the consequences of your cornucopian attitude and from the way things are going, it's not looking like it will end well for them.

If I have value to you, then you will have to make a little time for me every once in a while between vomit-cleanup and Mommy & Me yoga class.

Please try to talk about what we still have in common -- don't be one of those frightening dead-inside slaves to your child. Please ask yourself if you absolutely must become a zombie? I could be wrong, but I don't think the kid is going to perish if his wails go unanswered for a half-hour. You're not a monster for telling little Madison or Tyler an outright NO, sans explanation. Maybe, just maybe, she'll learn that crying for no good reason doesn't get her anywhere.

There have been plenty of eras of history that weren't completely handed over to kids and their needs, i.e. the eighteenth century, which just happened to produce the Enlightenment thinkers and J.S. Bach. In fact, many societies still exist today where kids aren't coddled for every bruise or scrape and chaffeured to half a dozen after-school activities every week. Those kids don't seem unhappy about it. Maybe you can start a trend.

Or maybe not.

At any rate, I'll see you when I see you.

Good luck.

The Inferior Sex: Maleness As Evolutionary Suicide

Women are often portrayed as more emotional than men.  If a woman shows any emotion during a debate, it's because women as a whole are "too angry" or "too sensitive" for the sport of argument.  If a woman disagrees with someone she does not like or goes against the grain, she must be "on the rag."

When we enter the pure, cold, emotionless world of actual numbers, the truth becomes far different than the common perception that males are more in control of their emotions than females.  Statistics show that 80% of violence is perpetrated by males.  That's 80% of all rapes, assaults, and murders.  

Numbers don't lie.  

Handwritten letter from Dennis Rader, otherwise known as
Bind Torture Kill (BTK).  Notice the pretty drawings.

The Macabre Minds of Male Murderers

It's rather difficult to rape, assault, or murder and have zero emotions going on, regardless of whether the offender is in touch with his emotions or not.  Would Ed Gein have kept nine vulvae in a shoe box, Bernice Worden's head in a burlap sack, and a pair of lips on a window shade drawstring if he had no emotions relative to his mother?  Would Dennis Rader, the BTK strangler, have taunted police for years with cryptic hints if he was not emotionally excited by being chased and prideful about escaping capture?

I'd call Gein and Rader a couple of ultra-emotional guys.  

An Emotional Killer is a Stupid Killer

Contrarily, if I wanted to commit murder, the last thing I would do would be to give into my emotional urges to keep mementos like Gein or to send love notes to the police, like Rader. 

Why?  Because I actually can control my emotions, so:

A. I don't kill people in the first place

B. If I do kill someone, the last thing I'll do is leave CLUES

The Emotional Sex

Men talk a good game, but they are by far the more emotional sex.  They express their inability to control their emotions by raping, killing, raiding, and by engaging in the macro-version of raiding behavior, war.  

There was a time when people thought chimpanzees were peaceful, gentle creatures.  Chimpanzee society was thought of as a bacchanalian idyll.  That was until deep study revealed almost all types of chimp groups were plagued by a recurring pattern.  In this pattern, hierarchies with an alpha at the top banded together and raided their fellow chimps for resources, often killing them brutally.  The chimps at the top of the hierarchy were invariably male.  

As it turns out, male chimpanzees cause 80% of all chimpanzee violence, a statistic that is uncannily similar to a certain other, more upright ape, no?  The only counterexample in all of Chimpanzeeland was found within a breed of chimps called the bonobos, which was remarkably peaceful and mostly absent of ritualistic raid/kill/destroy campaigns from males.  Bonobos are a female dominated society with groups of matriarchal (female) alphas and cooperative culture.  Quelle surprise.

A Perpetual Curse

Women may go on the rag once a month, but those who commit  80% of the world's violent crimes would seem to be suffering drastic mood swings far more often than once a month.  I guess they call it MENstruation for a reason?  Jokes aside, the world of the male mind is fraught with dizzying, terrifying flights of fanciful emotion.  Imagine being plagued by thoughts like these: 

"Will I be able to get laid if I'm too short and fat?"

"He's got a bigger penis/more money/a prettier female than I do, now I HATE HIM!"

"God wants me to have four children!"

"I'm going to beat the shit out of her if she gets smart with me again."

"That waitress owes me sex because she was nice to me."

"I'm proud of my country and I hate anyone who doesn't share my particular skin color/religion/privilege.  I'm going to join the armed forces to fight for OUR FREEDOM!"

"I think this time I'm going to literally die from this head cold."

"How dare he suggest I have an alcohol problem?  I can quit anytime I want."

"That Facebook group won't let me in because they say I'm a troll?  I'LL SUE!"

"Global warming is fake.  It's actually getting cooler."

Speaking of global warming, casual observation reveals we are in the midst of the Sixth Mass Extinction, an era commonly dubbed as the Holocene. 

The Holocene Extinction is the accumulated result of male raiding behaviors over millennia. 

Back in the Fertile Crescent days, the male of our species was responsible for the invention of animal agriculture, which involved the trapping and breeding of wild animals until they were domesticated and could be exploited for food, entertainment, and clothing.  The human female was also on the list of exploits, because in order for proto-capitalist kings to amass large empires, it was essential to dominate females of all species for their reproductive power.  Even the word "dominate" possesses the etymology of the Latin word dominari, which means lord or master. 

Not mother or mistress.  Lord.

Control a female's reproductive system, whether it is for baby boys or eggs and milk, and you the control the world.

Nevertheless, this was all old news east of the Tigris/Euphrates Eden, as it had already happened quite a few years earlier in China.

A Formula For Extinction

The pattern of males is to worship and adore an alpha male king, who does his kingly duty by amassing power.

Females are considered a lower species (e.g. Adam's rib) because of the aforementioned detail of their reproductive power, which requires domination by males in order for the patriarchal construct to function.  Females are told to reproduce as many proletarians as their uteruses can spew, because alpha males need a large workforce with which to exploit their empire's natural bounty in the most efficient way possible.

The kingly duty of the alpha male is to exhaust the resources in his local area in the drive for more power, than to find another society to raid, strip it of its natural resources, and repeat the cycle by passing on the behaviors via his harem to his son/sons.  The human alpha male reaps copious evolutionary rewards for completing the cycle over and over again, gaining empire, fabulous homes, trophy wives and girlfriends, and the ubiquitous $10,000 umbrella stand.  You knew I had to put it in here somewhere.

Oops....

A problem occurs when the human male, whom evolution has placed at the pinnacle of the raid/exploit/amass/raid pyramid, runs out of planet to exploit.  This planet is done for, so alpha males look to Mars with stars in their eyes, conveniently forgetting that no successful biodome project has ever been completed right here on Earth, which actually has breathable air if an explorer's luck runs out.

With two degrees or more Celsius baked into our Holocene, we are looking at an extinction that resembles the Permian (that's the one 251 million years ago that wiped out 95% of all life on Earth) on steroids.

An evolutionary "winner" who quickly causes the extinction of not only himself but nearly all other species on Earth is what I think we can safely call an evolutionary mistake.

Maleness, especially human maleness, is a defect. 

A sex that orchestrates its own demise and is furthermore incapable of doing anything but accelerating its own descendants' demise is just plain inferior to a sex that would conserve its own species at the very least.  

A sex that drives its own species to a situation where insane, tumor-studded cannibal pirates battle each other to the death over a single, unopened can of botulism-compromized, hundred year old pineapple is not an evolutionary success.

A sex that is quickly engineering a world for itself that looks like the hot version of Cormac McCarthy's The Road is not an evolutionary win.

A sex that refuses to do anything about the impeding horrific suffering of its own children and grandchildren despite ample warnings is an outright evolutionary failure.  

This Is On Females Too

It's not human (or chimpanzee) females trying to seed petty dictatorships and banana republics across the globe, however, the women who acquiesce to male power patterns by jumping into bed with the first bad boys who'll take them and who gleefully bear his parasites are also culpable in our mass evolutionary suicide.  

And Now For An Absence of Sunshine Up Your Ass

Unlike everything else you'll read on the internet, this is the paragraph you are not going to get a "but there's still hope" from me.  I'm not going to blow smoke up anyone's ass.  There is no hope for our race.  We are going extinct, most likely in about 500 years if we are lucky.  What we can do is say no to the usual unchecked demonic male behavior by recognizing, curbing, and dare I say occasionally punishing the lesser sex for its sins.  

The Vegan Darkness

I am vegan and I have dark thoughts.  

I know vegans are supposed to epitomize compassion for all beings.  I'm honest though.  I don't.  I'm very compassionate toward every species, except one, and yes, you can guess which one it is.

Homo sapiens.  The wise, standing ape who pillaged and raped until the Earth herself was nothing more than a lifeless, smoking, overheated, garbage-strewn husk.  I don't love the human race and I cannot pretend to.  Humans are now so overpopulated that we have practically guaranteed the near-term extinction of nearly all species on Earth, including our own.  I don't call that a wise race, no matter how we label ourselves, because to me, wisdom implies foresight.  In no other race of beings will you find individuals of such staggering malice and greed.  No other species goes against its own natural instincts in order to exploit fellow animals in the multi-billions.  I am one of a growing number of people who sees the truth for what it is.

The Sixth Extinction: You Are Here

The Earth has gone through five major extinctions.  The most recent one wiped out the dinosaurs.  250 million years ago, the Earth went through the  biggest extinction of all time, the Permian Extinction.  Over a span of anywhere from 1000 to 100,000 years, the Permian Extinction extinguished 93 percent of all life on Earth.  The cause?  A surge in global warming and the anoxification of the oceans.  Sound familiar?

You would think such information would be enough to get the average person to transition to a more sensible lifestyle: one that included learning to live with less, forcing local authorities to invest in public transportation, figuring out how to grow our own food and all that.  Ha ha, fat chance.  Good luck trying to convince most of the zombies out there to buy a smaller TV, let alone getting them to boycott Walmart.  There are reasons we are going extinct.  We are a stupid species, plain and simple, and to be genuinely intelligent is to be extremely lonely.

The brightest minds of our era are still stuck with the idea we should eat animals.  Just because we can doesn't mean we should, but that never occurs to those who obtusely assert their temporary dominion over non-human animal's lives.  One of the problems we vegans face is that necrovorism, that is the habit of eating cadavers or the mammary and vaginal secretions of other animals, is addictive.  Eating flesh, dairy, and eggs is profoundly physically addictive.  Like other intoxicants, meat, dairy, and eggs imbue the addict with a feeling of euphoria and satiety while slowly destroying the addict's health piece by piece.  Like alcohol, animal products are full of empty calories that are delivered with a hefty dose of pure addictive poison.  As vegans, we face the uphill battle of trying to get otherwise-intelligent people to shed a lifetime of conditioning as well as physical dependence on heroin lite.  We will never have a fully vegan world just as we will never have an alcohol or cigarette free world, however, we can at least make it our goal to enable the general public to recognize it is essentially addicted to animal product drugs.

If we are in the Sixth Great Extinction, why would it matter anyway?  Why do I bother?

We're doomed.  I have two emotions reserved for people who bear biological children in this day and age, and they are pity and contempt.  It's not my descendants who will cannibalize each other as they scramble across the hellish junk deserts of the future.   It's not going to be my great-great-great-great-grandchild roasting on a marauder's spit.  The outcome isn't looking bright for humans, who, contrary to popular belief, will not colonize Mars or spread like a cancer to all the corners of the Milky Way and beyond.

Does this make me despair?  Of course it does. 

Does it make me want to kill myself?  Hell no. 

I will fight to the bitter fucking end to save animals on every front, even if it is as small an action as picking up a green caterpillar from the endless sea of pavement where I live and putting her in a patch of barely-surviving meadow and getting poison ivy in the process.  Being vegan is one of the only good reasons to live as a human parasite.  Vegans are the only conscious parasites who actively try to stop killing our host.  We are the only ones who believe non-human animals are more important than us, which is the only truly long-term sustainable attitude when it comes to preserving Gaia.

I do feel violent.  Whenever a school shooter marches into an American classroom and blows away half a dozen eight year olds and a few teachers, I always wonder why that asshole didn't march into Monsanto's headquarters at 800 North Lindbergh Boulevard in St. Louis, Missouri and go to work.  The difference between me and that shooter is I have these things called brain cells and self-preservation that stop me from being crushed under the weight of my own jihad.  But unlike the dimwitted thought police and Namaste maroons who believe repressing their urges will transform them into upright, morally transcendent demigods, I'm honest.  I would like the one percent knob with his trophy wife and ten-thousand dollar umbrella stand to meet with an unfortunate accident as he walks into me and my swinging axe.  I would like to punish the guy who threw acid in the face of a young Pakistani woman by forcing him to meet Allah by my hand, in the most dreadfully painful way possible.  I like to dream up nasty consequences for nasty people and I also enjoy musing that if I ran the world, I could indeed solve violence with violence.  Doesn't mean I'll get there or do those things even if I am appointed Ruler of the World.  There's a difference between saying it and acting upon it, even though that difference may be lost among politically correct who have lost their ability to discriminate.  

If you are vegan, I think there is a chance you might be all love and light, never wishing harm on anyone and giving every human the benefit of the doubt.  Congratulations, you ambassador of goodness and enlightenment.  The radiance of your golden soul will touch many.

Or maybe you are like me.  If so, welcome to the Darkness.