Caution: Despair Ahead (again).

Shitty night.

I’ve blogged before about how I have the whole depression thing licked, but at times something happens in my brain that I just can’t account for.

I’m angry. Not merely angry but genuinely hostile this evening. I broke some stuff, screamed, and if someone crossed me right now I would probably rip their head off without a second thought. As quoted in American Psycho, "I feel lethal, on the verge of frenzy."

My new position at the newspaper is stressful, but that’s not it. I’ve dealt with stress before. I have more balls in the air than a tea bagging convention.

I don’t even know if that’s funny or analogous, but I also don’t give a fuck.

What I think bothers me the most is that my days revolve around creating news stories about the tedium that characterizes people’s lives. That and the fact that nothing I do—or that anyone does—matters not the slightest sliver of a fuck.

I have a genuine dislike for humanity. My regular readers might be somewhat hurt by that statement, and I can only attempt to assure them that it’s nothing personal. There are people I genuinely like—my regular readers and commenters among them—but humanity as a whole is, in my humble opinion, a pox on this planet, and I wish we were all gone.

I am so disturbed by the fact that not only is life utterly impossible, but that we’ve made such a fucking mess of it. I don’t give a goddamn whether you believe in the Big Bang and Evolution; Intelligent Design; or a literal interpretation of Creation: life is impossible. To all you Big Bang supporters who believe that the little chunk of whatever that exploded and created everything "just happened," I tell you your theory is utterly fucking impossible. To you God-believing folks who claim that God created it all and that God just “always was,” I tell you your theory is impossible.

I heard a saying once that said “When the possible has been ruled out, the impossible must be true.” However, all theories mentioned above are impossible, so we're back to square-motherfucking-one and that pisses me off to no end. If we are going to have the "privilege" of living on the sole planet capable of supporting life, and if we are burdened to be the lone species capable of even understanding that we are alive, then for fuck's sake the Universe owes it to us to explain why we're here.

Douglas Adams, in his Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, theorized that the Earth was plugging away nicely when a spaceship carrying the dregs of another planet crash-landed here. Another civilization had separated the wheat from the chaff and sent their morons into space; salesmen, hairdressers, people who create spreadsheets: you know the type. They wound up here, killed off the cavemen who were evolving, and that explains why humanity is such an utter waste of life.

The funny thing is, Adams’ theory makes as much sense as anything.

I call myself a Christian every other day, and if Christianity winds up being true, I’m in for a stern lecture from the man upstairs when I finally let loose this mortal coil. God is supposedly love and I feel anything but love for life, myself, or my fellow man. I am full of anger and resentment and rage and hatred.

I see people around me who are happy with their 9-5 predictable lives, and I don’t know whether to envy or despise them. I see people who deal with numbers, and dollars, and spreadsheets, and 401Ks, and pop fucking culture, and the whole worthless assortment of worthless horseshit that permeates our lives, and it makes me physically ill and nearly apoplectic.

I see people around me having child after child for no other apparent reason than that it’s the thing to do and an opportunity to dress them in cute clothes and have everyone “ooh” and “aah” and say “How fucking cute.”

When I look at children, I see young boys who will grow up to be testosterone-driven, hateful bullies who say whatever they need to in order to deflower girls in the backseat of their Trans Am then never call them again. I see girls who think that by shirking any semblance of morality and desensitizing themselves to the humiliation that will be willingly and regularly heaped upon them by males, that they are a step ahead of everyone. And I see the look of misery on their faces when they reach adulthood and realize that they had been systematically used, abused, and discarded like a piece of trash.

When I see children in general I think that in a few years they’ll be faced with sleepless nights over the misery that characterizes their existence. I see them confined to cubicles staring at gray walls without windows creating spreadsheets. I see them hardly able to eek out a moment’s pleasure from their one and only lives on the one and only planet seemingly capable of harboring life. I see one out of a million having the balls and good fortune to spend their days doing something they enjoy and becoming successful at it, then having the other 99% of pitiful humans resenting them for it and doing everything within their power to tear them down.

For Christ’s sake, people: whether you believe in Creation or Evolution, can’t we agree that we have fucked things up royally? We are to the point where the almighty dollar is more important than life. We live on a planet where children are regularly sexually abused and tortured on Internet sites for the prurient gratification of an increasing number of people devoid of any measure of conscience. We live on a planet where thousands of soldiers die every day because people choose to fight one another despite an ability to communicate verbally which is unique to our species.

People are being murdered and raped. Animals are being tortured. We are pillaging the resources this wonderful repository of life has afforded us. This planet was supposed to be paradise and we have made it a spreadsheet-generating, polluted perversion of what God or nature had in mind.

Physicists agree that eventually our planet will be engulfed by the sun as its final embers smolder and it becomes an enormous, pulsating giant, destroying everything in its path. The elephant in the room is that our species is doomed; that the spreadsheets we create, the blogs we write, the newspapers we print, the mindless political arguing that continues incessantly won’t matter one single fuck when all is said and done. We are a blip on the cosmic radar screen. We are a fraction of a second on the cosmic clock. Our very existence is meaningless. How then can the things we argue about and debate be important?

Do you honestly not want to say fuck this system we’ve created and do something insane, just for the sake of doing it? For Christ’s sake, have you always wanted to paint a picture? Write a book? Play in a rock and roll band? You have one life and it is ticking away one alarmingly rapid second after another. Do you really want to stare at a goddamned felt-covered cubicle wall one more second?

Is all we can hope for to squeeze but a moment at a time of pleasure from this life and cherish it, hoping it’s enough to get us through the pointlessness and misery that characterizes the other 99% of it? If so, is it worth it?

What the fuck is the point of all this? Honestly: Why in the fuck are we here?