When you’re born into this world, you soon realize some things are not right. Even if you’re not very perceptive or interested, you slowly start noticing the general strangeness. Like Dad not being there for a day and Mom being very cross with him. He returns tired, smelling of cleaning detergents, telling you he loves you very much.
In school, you have to succeed and achieve. Teachers ridicule you in front of class for not knowing the answer, and the class ridicules you for having a sweatshirt with a roller skate on it. Most pupils shrug it off, but some are not as forgiving and bring justice… or their idea thereof.
Three quarters of countries have a head of state who uses the national budget as his private account. Usually outside the country. When the populace has enough of squalor, they storm the palace. His Excellency either escapes in time, or he doesn’t and they lynch him. The next guy learns nothing. Maybe one thing: live ammo.
In the remaining quarter, the politicians are squeaky clean. When they retire, they accept supervisory, advisory, and consultancy positions, multi-million book advances, speech tours, and free private jet flights.
Caviar is a delicacy. Pâté has a shelf life of three years without refrigeration. The most expensive drink is curdled grain soaked in old wood. It doesn’t taste worse than caviar, but it burns the throat.
Car drivers don’t use turn signals and slalom between speed bumps as what they think is a middle finger to the Man. They have a rosary *and* a Wunderbaum on the rear-view mirror, and they honk at female pedestrians. As nothing ever happens, they connect the horn with central locking.
Gregarious people use fireworks to celebrate. The metaphor for human life – a smelly sparkle withering quickly in the blackness of nothing – is lost on them. Solitary people buy Fleshlight.
There are brand managers.
People queef and boof everything that moves, then complain relationships are hard and try to save them with Van Cleef.
Google algorithm has thoroughly analyzed my browser history and shows me ads for menstrual hygiene products.
When someone is very lucky, the Czechs will say: “Z prdele klika.” Which translates to: “From the ass, a door handle.”
After people see all of this and more, they choose to act in three ways:
- They collaborate with and perpetuate this state of affairs. They’re called scoundrels and toadies, and they do the following:
- Further themselves.
- Brag about how they furthered themselves.
- Plan how to further themselves further.
- They want to change things. They are called assassinated.
- They watch in disbelief and hope nobody finds out about their doubts. They’re called Martin Šoth. I suspect I’m not alone.
I was going to join group 1 intently. I was a bad kid. I put a thumbtack under a boy’s bicycle tire. He moved forward and took it. I hit another boy repeatedly on the back with his own umbrella. He had bruises. I hit a girl on the head with a rolled-up calendar page. It was one of the winter months. She moved to Canada many years later.
Then one day, I was 10 and my brother was 4. We were alone and we argued about something. I shoved him and he hit his head on the edge of the door. It looked injurious, he cried for a minute. The next morning he woke up with a high fever. My immediate thought was: “I killed my brother. This is it, I’ll get the chair.” Blood drained from my body, I went catatonic for an hour. Then he and Mom returned from the doctor, he had the flu. I decided on that day I was gonna go straight.
He joined group 1.