Our predicament is much like the animals, I tell you. I myself am thinking of going the way of the West African black rhino, or maybe the golden toad. Extinction. I reckon my last ribbit won't be to their satisfaction. You'd be wise to do the same.
I am by genital, er
genetic design, an ignorant blaspheming hate monger with no capacity for empathy. Sin is my birthright. That's right, I'm a white male. The very sanctity of the air I breathe is fouled by my tainted wheeze and the odor of my forefathers. Us white men are unique in that our ancestors are the only ones on this earth that are guilty of anything. After all, Shaka Zulu and Genghis Khan were philanthropists, and we never had to be slaves. This concession is my desperate stab at redemption. But I digress. For in my politically 'conscious' life (hopefully unconscious soon), I have refused their sacred blood oath. I made no pledge to those noble self-hating whites, crusading "women" in men's clothes, or easily offended minorities. I have no love or reverence for killers, even if they wear fancy suits and have a nice shave. Actually, to hell with atoning for my sins. To hell with shaving.
It is my firm belief that humanity as a whole amounts to an unwanted plague. Our short-lived history will read like the old Gallic mantra "vae victis" or "woe to the conquered." Whether you're a Roman centurion getting his shiny helmet bashed in by a dude with face paint and a beard in the latter days of your empire, or an Iraqi kid lit up by a middle aged diabetic drone 'pilot' thousands of miles away named Bill, humanities favorite pastime never changes. Our story is a tale written by those who are able to kill better than others. Children blown to bits in Pakistan? Their fault. Kid brings a squirt gun to school? Oh my, that boy is ill! Hopefully some shorthaired bull dyke with a degree in I'm-a-victim studies will pump him full of a healthy combination of Ritalin and Zoloft to balance him out. I'll take that with a side of arsenic, good sir.
These things will never change. We like thinking there are reasons. There are none. We yearn for the solution. There isn't one. Some of my friends point to an overarching governmental conspiracy that started in the depths of some political Star Chamber. Maybe it's the Illuminati, or Bilderberg. All that's needed to break the conspiracy is term limits and smaller government. I have my doubts. Human nature is illustration enough; we need not dance around it. Annihilating one another is genetic imperative. Buried dormant within all of us is our contempt for others, waiting to be awoken. Violence is a function of that lurking primordial hatred. Deciding to act 'human' is to suppress these primitive urges temporarily.
Some dead white guy named Friederich Hegel once said if there is anything we learn from history, it's that we learn nothing from history.
(I'll spare you: That's about the only rational thing the man ever said) The only difference amongst Julius Caesar, Napoleon, Lincoln, Hitler, Stalin, and Mao is in name and dress attire. Some prefer the manly bronze body armor of Caesar to the fancy white tights of Napoleon. Virtually all of histories relevant leaders had people put to the sword, rifle, and fields. Same outcome. For pointing these things out, I have been deemed either a terrible pessimist, or a crackpot radical. I resent that latter accusation, as many a good nights dinner has been made in the crackpot during my childhood. Maybe it was the Crock Pot. The aroma of slowly cooking animal flesh in that well-worn vat my mom used reminds me of our predicament. Slow rot.
Hey, I'm not all doom and gloom. Every now and then a glimmer of hope shines upon us cretins, and the light finds me. We are slowly getting better, I assure you. I have seen the evidence, and it is mounting. We come up with quicker, far less painful ways of offing each other everyday. The drones are far gentler means of erasing life than the notorious Roman mass crucifixion of slaves along that entire 120-mile stretch called the Appian Way. A white flash is preferable to a prolonged splintered nailing. I count my blessings. The way of the animals we shall go. But try not to worry, be happy. It's all you've got.