Minuscula Sed Ferox
(Icon Art by Lindsay Small-Butera)
I’ve been thinking about this stuff for a long time and I’ve vascillated back and forth on it for months, but I think I’m ready to make as clear a statement as I can about it.
There’s gotta be an explanation for disconnect/dysphoria from being human that some folks feel, but not “I am actually [insert alternate species].”
Modern culture makes it very easy to feel like we’re bad at existing, bad at being human. So much of our existence is just really difficult, not feeling like we belong or being what we’re meant to be, not achieving what we ought, not succeeding at life. And I can understand that. I know what it’s like to feel bad at being human. It’s very close to being tired of being alive, and I know that feeling very well. I would never deny the existence of another person’s pain.
But the pain of not feeling like a decent human, or not wanting to be human, arises from the fact that we exist in a flawed society that has constructed arbitrary rules for what “being an adequate human being” means. Claiming that a person isn’t actually human, or is an inadequate or inferior one, is a form of alienation that’s been used to further racist and socially oppressive agendas for ages. So personally choosing not to “identify as human” is not the solution to the problem, and frankly it’s pretty insulting to the people who have had that “inhuman” classification foisted upon them.
I know it hurts and it feels gross and ugly, but believe me, we’re human. Because we all deserve that basic respect.
Ah, spring. Time once again for the loud neighborhood domestic disputes.
Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy is it so difficult to work up the motivation to be creative
being nonproductive makes me loathe myself more than anything else
-intelligence (or lack of)
-skills (or lack of)
-friends (or lack of)
Who ever reblogs this will get a message in their inbox.
All of them…minus the last two… Oh.
Weight, Appearance, body, and personality.
back in my day, kids didn’t just sit at home smoking meth and masturbating to video games about witchcraft and gay communism on their microsoft super duper nintendos all day
they went out and got good respectable jobs like coal miner, slaughterhouse worker, Jew catcher, and meth maker
we’d make enough money for three sticks of gum a day and that was good enough for us!
but you kids these days don’t appreciate what you’ve got and are always demanding more
you have to have an “iPhone” instead of just using vinegar and a bale of hay like we used to
you walk around with your fancy Russian-made automatic weapons instead of good old-fashioned American muskets
you read trendy trash like “User’s Guide to OS/2 Warp v.3” and “The Complete Works of Shakespeare” instead of studying and cherishing the Good Book, the Mystery Nightmare Gospel of Zorvax the Annihilator
you’re always guzzling that “fruit punch drink” and sticking the little umbrellas behind your ears and going out to the “orgy domes” — why, when I was your age, we only got to go to the orgy dome once a month, and only for four hours at a time
you sit at a desk every day, forced to remain completely still and silent and expressionless and staring straight forward for eight hours straight, as an oily snakelike schoolmarm drones on about stalactites this and stalagmites that and fills your head with preposterous lies like the so-called “Vietnam War” and “ancient Greece” and “French Revolution” and “negative numbers” and “Galileo”, and if you dare to speak up and let the class know that their precious “Barack Obama” and “Justin Beeper” and “Doug Funnie” aren’t even real, she whips you and then makes you say your name backwards fifty times as a symbol of your shame as she plays a sad tune on the shame tuba
meanwhile you’ve forgotten the traditions of your forefathers, like the Festival of the Seven Suns, which we’d put on every year when the seven suns were exactly aligned
we’d go outside with all our coconuts and lie them out across the road in a straight line and place bets on how long it would be before a horse would come by and disturb them
the winner would get to harpoon and devour the horse, and we’d capture its rider and make him eat all the coconuts before the suns shifted and his second shadow became visible
if he ate all the coconuts, he would be hailed as king of kings for the rest of the day, and we’d rebuild his horse; but if he failed, we’d burn him alive and sing and dance in a ring around him as a symbolic celebration of our coming destruction at the hands of the mighty Zorvax
but apparently you only have one sun now… apparently that’s what the schools and the television are telling you… a convenient excuse, if you ask me
an excuse for your decadence, excess, and blasphemy; your public sodomy and your newfangled jazz music and your pointed hats
you boys are being indoctrinated into doing women’s jobs like computer hacker and investment banker and Minister of War, and you’re just standing by and letting them take over your traditional manly duties like impregnating women, baking, training wolves, opera, and fortune telling
what is this world coming to, when girls go to the mall and pick out boys from glass cases, instead of the other way around, the way it used to be!
and that’s another thing, you kids have forgotten the spirit of the space race
if the Hunnic Empire puts a man on the moon before us, I’m pointing the finger at you! the Hun has gotten the A-bomb too and we can’t let him embarrass us by blowing up the moon before we do!
you kids are letting Hollywood and the medicine companies turn you into vicious robots right and left while giving the real robots all the money and women, and what are you doing about it? writing letters to the editor and demanding more robots, from what I’ve seen! have you not heard the saying, that whosoever faileth to learn from history, doth himself condemn to repeat it??
you’ve gone soft on crime — whenever we caught a nogoodnik stealing a piano or reading his neighbor’s mail because his neighbor was subscribed to the Reader’s Digest or somesuch, we’d bring him out to the town square and cut off his head and pass it around and let all the children touch it, so they could see what they’d look like if they ever stole a piano
and then we’d sew his head back on and let him go with a warning, unless it was his second offense or he was a ghost or an Irish, in which case we’d put him in a crate and paint a big blue “U” on it (for “scoUndrel”) and cast it out to sea
and we’d sit around and tell stories about spacemen finding the crate a thousand years later and thawing him out — imagine what they’d say! “why, good golly, this fellow must have been a sorry old rascal in his day!”, they’d say — we’d always make the spacemen say that, it was just something we always did, and that our fathers did, and their fathers before them; but I’ve never once heard it from the mouths of you damn kids!
if your grandmother were alive to see this, why, she’d cut you off at the knees and hang you upside-down over a pit of serpents!
(your grandmother did always love her serpents)
but my point is, you kids have lost all your respect for your history! boys intermarrying with girls, it makes me sick — they should be kept separate, the way nature intended! you treat “the white race” like it’s some kind of awful cuss word, and then you go about freely spouting filth like “bandiwicker”, “crud mucker”, “gee-whiz”, “rectum”, “schtupping”, and “blog” like all those hop-pop rockabilly stars you love so much
well I have news for you! your precious “Animal Collection” and “The Beagles” and “Lady Guava” won’t save you from the righteous wrath of Zorvax! surrender to her now or accept what you have brought upon yourselves when cometh the day, ye ungrateful vermin!
and another thing, why does the newspaper cost so much more now? it’s an outrage! when I was your age, the daily newspaper only cost us one shiny nickel and it came with a dozen pages of funnies and a fine plump hog. now you practically have to own a newspaper to be able to afford to read one! where do you get your funnies now, eh? oh, that’s right, you don’t have those anymore! probably don’t even know what they are!
you damn kids!
It’s even better when you imagine it in this old dude’s voice.
One man, one Lord, one Faith, one, Baptism, …two nunchucks.