It’s the End of The World… again.
Oh hum. Boring. We were warned. We were told that our economy was over. We were told that in Contra we only got three lives and then Sonofafuckingbitch we had thirty lives if we cracked the code. We were told the SOVIETs were going to get us, but that ended. Over. Not even one fucking ICBM shot. Decades of fear because of the tin cans made by people who failed to make working: cars, washing machines, apartment buildings, cement, left shoes? With the Russians reduced again to Serfs, we needed not fear them. So we learned new fears. We were told the Euro would bring us down when it launched. We were told Bin Laden ™ would end us all.
New EOTWAWKI systems have been brought online to keep up our last industries – bombs and bullshit. We need these industries to survive as we have unlearned anything useful in our Race To The Top. We need to send everyone in college where they can learn how to not take care of themselves because they’re all “idea people” or “big picture people” or hooked on Oxi. Our “students are slipping behind” mantra is only balanced out that our best and brightest copyright smaller and smaller ideas and more and more vague conceptual economic products fighting with armies of lawyers as to who owns 00101011100001(tm) or 06-24-30-45-08 and Powerball 14. Yes, our PPT tell us about leadership, and offline we murmur about the end of benefits, the end of a reasonable work week, and scoff at the once gold standard – that we can work for a company for decades rather than months. We listen to talk shows tell us What We Don’t Know Will Kill Us, but this week we have a real treat. The actual end of the world, and universe. Yes, this weekend, even light and our entire dimension gets fucked. Yes. Fucked.
I am excited. Does this mean I don’t have to pay my student loan? NOTE: If you are reading this Sunday morning, you were not Saved. If you have not been, prepare to be “destroyed” like Pets.com or Enron or the memory that we used to have laws protecting citizens from surveillance and other nasties of the state. Perhaps come Sunday morning there won’t be any morning talk shows and the Zombies have already done their work or angels or whatever. Maybe I have been deported to Heaven. Maybe only my cat made it up. As I write this, I realize that this posting may just be forever projected into space to be picked up by aliens thousands of years from now…. will the aliens picking up my little post of today show up on my wordpress site stats? It better….. Anyway….
While May 21, 2011 may not unleash the Final Day, this is the Memorial Day unofficial kick off of a Long Hot Summer. Think of May 21, 2011 as the tailgating party of 2012 EOTW. An exhibition game for Team Craxy before more of us sign up to play. The coming months will see some substantial changes. Not because Mother Nature rains polar bears on us, the House of Saud goes green one September morning having run out of oil, not because Mad Money says to sell, buy, hold goldandsilver, but because our collective unconsciousness may just snap. After years of stress, our Empire may be in for a mid-life crisis come 2012.
Now, this rapture of 2012 won’t involve any Mayan truths, or Erich Von Daniken In Search Of truths, or truthiness, but may be created as an expression of a great deal of social tension in the air. We already show signs of caged animals. We cut ourselves (tattoos, etc.), don’t eat (super models) or eat too much (suburban children), pace about endlessly, take tones of medications, don’t sleep, escape into TeeVee, Video games that replace the entire world with a new and more elfin one. Add to this a mixture of certain fuels: election year, economic trends connected to the baby boomers aging out of the consumer society (spoken about as early as the late 1980s and not just a new theory), and an endless set of bad news from Mother Nature. This air and fuel is sure to cause all kinds of mayhem as the social unrest of the 1960s and 1970s caused certain priests to molest children, certain serial killers to listen to their dog or pay too much attention to start signs, certain minority groups to burn down their own houses in protest, or your parents to dress like fools and use the money they should have used for a baby sitter on you on quality primo blow and disco dance the night away. While the NYSEDJI (praise be to the markets) may be the center of the known universe and the fount of all human endeavor and emotion, it isn’t the Zeitgeist of humanity, and Zeitgiest is about to shit its pants. You see Zeitgiest isn’t just some word used to sell crap art exhibits at the MOMANEWMUSEUMWHITNEY and be included in academic papers, it is a spirit of common culture and mind that in the near past was called the “collective unconsciousness” and today is called google. The webrain syndrome where ideas fly faster than memes in a memetic memeriory. It is the webrain where a baby farting Wagner in China (or smoking a blunt) can fly faster around the world than any social or environmental contagion. It is the world where all our Captains of Industry and all their NYSEDJI algorithms can’t stop people when they get a really dumb idea under their minds and need to run with it. We no longer have the releases we had in the 1960s. Feelgood drugs are illegal, cigarettes immoral, surfing is too expensive, route 66 is closed, Woodstock is a strip of tacky souvenir shops, long hair and bush is out, those fringe religions boring, communes foreclosed, Indian anything about as exotic as any On The Go, and we can have as much sex as we want as long as everything is coated with latex and chemicals. We can yell whatever we want at the man. If we get a catchy slogan, we’ll see it on tee-shirts by sundown.
So we are listless. The summer of 1914 was also known for its stillness. To many that summer was an idyllic time especially to many European writers and poets. From these sources we are told that the summer was like a thousand before – hot, dry, and boring. People had nothing to do, no where to go. The long days gave rise to warm dry nights. This stillness of the summer in Europe was also tinged with some distant words, rumors, and consternation kept away from the children, but it was only old men mumbling into their beards. Then, something happened in this land of plenty. For no real reason other than papers and words and signatures and people given titles by God, the entire world went batshit. By the end of a year hundreds of thousands of lives were lost, and millions more doomed. This war, while it makes sense in the history books, was not started by any mass starvation or actual need. The factories and farms of Old Europe were doing well. However, the escape route, the pressure valve of those leaving to America to unburden the capitalism of the age may have not worked well enough, or perhaps the people finally succumbed to Team Craxy.
Today, we have a period of calm. Our wars are all chugging along just fine. We killed Bin Laden ™. Our debt will be raised. The Fed will print more money. Gas will go up to $4.25 and then down to $3.87 in time for Happy Motoring Season. I bought an entire cooked chicken for $3.95. The banks haven’t failed. Yet, our craxy is telling us something important. Judgment Day is near. The Russians in their literature had a long tradition of the Holy Fool. The madman. The lunatic who often was the unfortunate bearer of sins of others, and a bellwether of society in certain cases, and the health of civilization in other instances.
While this Holy Fool believes that Saturday will give way to the most disappointing Sunday morning for a select few (perhaps 144,000?), we will be seeing more indications of the sickness that is just beneath the surface of our fat and sassy TeeVee Baby society. Repent, the change is near.