The Golden Age of Grotesque
Allow me to express ahead of time that this post not only has dual topics; it’s also riddled with hidden messages!
It truly is marvelous to be me currently. It’s nothing short of the euphoric sense of being high on a substance that doesn’t subside. I’m definitely walking the high road currently, and the view from up here is stunning, to say the least. I’m not bragging, although for all intents and purposes I more than likely should be. There’s something absolutely invigorating about what happens when I’m thrown forcibly into a good mood. Not to mention, the fact that the reasoning behind it is so bountifully simple that most people who are inducted into my inner circle of trust find out and ask me why something so trivial makes me happy. So, instead of providing them with a copied and pasted, horribly conjured vanilla reason that you could find in any pathetic romantic-comedy, or perhaps in a terrible chain message spread through a social networking site; I’ve decided to handle that question with a perfectly prepared plea purposefully posted to poison the pool of pathetic passer-bys protruding prosaic palaver.
Well, it’s like this children. I love video games. I’m sure that comes as quite a shock to many of you. I absolutely could not stand a world without them, and even considering a place where digital artwork is not present sends a cold chill up my spine that could freeze the Ice Queen herself. I’m also a sucker for my heavy metal. Many of you are familiar with my feelings on metal, and know what I consider to be the paramount of modern music. That music not only works many of my everyday actions with a rather disinterested hand, it also commands my body like a marionette; one driven by riffs and lyrics powerful enough to move millions of heads into a forward and backward position practically every time they begin. Without Heavy Metal, I’d be forced to endure day in and day out the incompetent lyricism of lesser genres that sway the hips and shoulders of the masses who have no idea they are being slowly anesthetized into unintelligence one idiotic chorus-line after the other. Most of all, I love angering people. No matter what format, I’ve found that sparking a wildfire is easily the best way to get me to crack a grin. Mayhaps that’s my sick sense of humor hard at work, but there’s nothing that I enjoy more than being able to feed off of the tears and anguish of others. Most people do this only vicariously. They see from afar, and snicker behind the back of the victim. This permits them to retain a sense of discreet humility, even if it is only pseudo-humility. I, however don’t enjoy sitting in the limelight of others as they gain solace by the emptiness from which I feed. Yes indeed; I’m going to be the first one to anger the most arrogant person in the room, just for starters. The insecure, will soon be brought out of their shells; if only by the usage of rage alone.
With all this being said, and with the vast amount of information you’ve now been introduced to, I will digress to ensure that my point is made rather clear. All of the before mentioned variables that comprise my persona, have all but taken a back seat in favor of a single thing. This thing, is what I’d like to refer to as the bane of my existence. That however is not going to work, because I’m all but falling into a black-hole of comfort. She encourages my bad behavior. She plays the games I do, and enjoys them all if not more than myself. She is 150% supportive 100% of the time. I can’t even give up on the things I’d NORMALLY abandon, because for some reason her hand is always there to pull me back up. I’m trying so fuckin hard to be depressed mind you, as I’ve come to be an adept practitioner of the emotional status. She won’t let me though. Like the familiar “fairy in a bottle” of the Legend of Zelda, she springs into action the second a slight grimace even remotely grazes my face. I’m honestly not sure how to respond to this. How the hell am I supposed to work as a cynical writer compelled to rant, when she’s not allowing me any room to do such an act? It’s almost baffling how fast I’ve started becoming the myth known as the “optimist”. If this continues, I just don’t know what I’ll do. She’s solving problems by the day, and if she continues to do so come christmas I will have lost all will to be hostile. OMFG WTF BBQ!!!!?!?!?!? Yes, it’s a scary thought. On that note, let’s take this time to focus on something that IS hostile.
There’s nothing I love more than running into people who I once knew. I’m sure you’ve had the situation before. You’re minding your own business, and out of the dark recesses of time and space comes the Nimrod from 5 years ago you hoped to get rid of. I traversed “Lethe” high school and left that dying carousel so I wouldn’t have to lay eyes on your idiotic face again; with that being said WHY THE HELL ARE YOU IN FRONT OF ME IN LINE!? Then comes the rainbow of shocked expressions as they begin to surprisingly describe to you how much people are not going to believe that you’re still breathing, and residing on the planet Earth. (trust me, if I didn’t have to live on this planet I wouldn’t). Moron then begins a speech about what all useless activities he has been engaging in lately, how his “Heaven’s Gate Tribute Cult” is doing just fine and they should be getting a record deal anytime now to ingest the arsenic pudding. At this point, I’ve long since lost interest and I’m simply trying to figure out synonyms for “fucking boring” to use to describe the atrocity I am currently experiencing. After the brag-fest of bullshit, they of course have to ask you what you’ve been up to. If they didn’t make sure you felt overwhelmingly insignificant once they were done, they wouldn’t be one of those cock suckers you attempted to ditch once the cap and gown came off. That’s where I create a large list of things I’ve never done and don’t plan on doing, simply to pacify the idiot and mock them at the same time. My list includes the following:
1) I’ve created an amusement park called “Redneck Land” where I make backwoods hicks jump through multicolored hoops above a gigantic pool.
2) I’ve written a self-help guide titled “How to tell if you’re more interesting than a lampshade in 10 easy steps”.
3) I’ve volunteered overseas in an activist program called “Massacre The Mundane” that kills people who do nothing but brag in conversation when meeting an old acquaintance.
4) I’ve made abbreviations for the general population who say it takes too long to type out “LOL”, “WTF”, “IKR”, and other such acronyms.
And last but not least…
5) I’ve recently finished my note on why suicide is justifiable in public places.
Of course, they’re either tittering with ecstatic glee or ready to beat your ass by this benchmark in the conversation. The point is, they’ll never be stupid enough to ask that condescending question again. Once this nightmare is over though, you’re forced to suffer through one more trial if they didn’t like the speech. Actually, I take that back. You’re going to suffer it anyways, because they don’t get to use the ploy often enough, and because you looked like you could really use a bad day right about then. They will say with an almost serious expression on their face, “You’ve changed”. It is one of my favorite copout arguments. People who use “You’ve changed” are people who truly ran out of every other decent idea and have now resorted to the bottom of the valid complaint chain. They then stare at you as if they’ve never known you, and become almost shocked at the fact that now that you’re not forced to spend every day with them, you can treat them how you please. That’s where I look them in the eyes, grapple their clothing and pull them in close enough for them to smell the animosity on my breath and inform them:
“Of course I changed, you idiot. I matured over time, and evolved into what I am now. Get with the fucking program! I’m waiting on you to do the same!!”.