How to Be Happy in a Psychotic World

Yea, take the reality pill. Good thinking.

It’s very easy to conclude that the human race is doomed from a cursory look at the world around you.  If you don’t get the impression from watching or reading the news, there are a few documentaries that will help you consolidate your doom vision.  There are so many kinds of doom creeping up Mother Nature’s derriere right now, it boggles the imagination.  Why everyone isn’t running around in circles screaming bloody murder is an utter mystery to me, until I remember most people just make a choice to buy in at some point, and their brain happily cancels out all the information they don’t find useful to this lofty goal.

Unless you’re one of the unlucky ones who feels its your job to wake up the herd to the fact that its heading for a cliff, things might seem pretty darn good right before all that you know and love falls limbs flailing into the final abyss.

That’s why I recommend you punch a kitten in the face every day.

Kidding, of course.  What I really recommend is you stop thinking about all the starving children for 5 minutes and start thinking about how nice it would be to send me money.

One day, you will be dying in a hospital, your waste of a life flashing before your eyes, your gray, diabetic draping of flesh with scribbles of veins over fragile bones mocking you with the certain return of the nothingness from which you sprung, and you will think to yourself, Why didn’t I send some money to the Freethought Police when I had a chance?

You sorry son of a bitch.

Outside the window, perhaps there will still be trees, made of plastic.  And the artificial sound of birds will play from hidden devices.  A sky that is on the mauve side will carry a sun that is about to get put out for the benefit of Halliburton.  Nurses will chat about the babies they ate for lunch.

Your children will laugh about pulling the plug on you and splitting up your hard-earned dough.  But their laughter will sound as sweet as the candy returned to babies by the Robin Hood of babies that had their candy stolen.  And their deceitful sneers will seem to have made all your days worthwhile, welcoming you warmly into coldness of the grave.

I will point at you and say You fool!  The mouths of the sea turtles gape accusingly at you from the plastic-spoiled sea. 

You won’t like that, will you?

Well, knowing you, you probably will.

Anyway, cheer up.  Everything is fine.


About Lou Saboter

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