I try to live my life being a decent man. I feel that to be better than decent in this day and age is nigh on impossible. Particularly living in the capitalistic West, where the pursuit of money is seen as the highest good.
I suppose, when I see the people on t.v., I subconsciously compare myself to them – the politicians, celebs, and the outrageously wealthy, and I decide that I’m a pretty okay human being really. Sometimes I can just about convince myself I’m almost saintly.
Then on other occasions, I wonder if maybe I’m just a miserable, twisted, ungrateful, judgemental, disenchanted n
It’s only words
My kids remind me, my missus reminds me, even my few remaining living friends remind me – I can be a grumpy, contrary, argumentative bastard – even when I’m in a good mood. My family only seem to get upset with me when I speak – I don’t know what’s the matter with them – they are over sensitive I think. They know I’m a decent man, so I don’t know why they get so cross over so little; just because I used the wrong tone of voice, or an inappropriate choice of words, miserable bastards.
I may appear to have an occasional moment of incandescence, and rant as though I’m prepared to cast someone to eternal damnation, even though I’ve never met them. It may just be some tosser off the telly or – it may be an advert, or perhaps a politician – it might even be the whole of BBC Radio 4.
But I’m never as angry as I appear to be, and I never wish to cause actual harm to any of the rich and famous, prostituted puppets, upon whom I so regularly vent my spleen.
I suppose “fake rage” is like a safety valve for me. I simply won’t let those hapless soul-whores dishearten me.
Fake rage is a way of transforming despair and hopelessness into something more positive and constructive. Well maybe not exactly constructive, more like amusing – at least for me, others don’t always see the funny side. They see a deranged middle-aged man shouting at the telly, whereas I feel only love.
It’s a way for me to cope with the egregious and ridiculous performance, that is force fed to us through all forms of media today, but particularly through television.
I seem to have convinced myself that because I wish no harm, that that in itself makes me a good person; and when I compare myself to almost anyone famous – it makes me feel almost like a saint.
I suppose an absence of evil doesn’t necessarily make someone or something good. Anyway, it’s hard to work out where I am on the Angel/Demon scale – and even more difficult to work out other peoples position. I don’t have enough information to rate myself, let alone anyone else – but I still like to I try.
Don’t judge me
I probably shouldn’t judge others, but if they’re on telly regularly then they are asking for it.
I do have the right to judge myself – but that’s okay. I’m a good lawyer, the jury’s always very understanding, and I have a very lenient judge – so I usually get off with a caution.
I still swear at the telly and shock the family with my fake rage, bile, and apparent contempt, for seemingly innocuous celebrities. If someone is on the telly then they are inviting me to pass an opinion upon their very right to exist, with all the fake rage I can muster..
Perhaps I am being too harsh on the players in this pantomime. Possibly the participants in this perverse performance, rationalise their behaviour in the same way that I do when judging themselves; if indeed, they ever have time for self-reflection.
Sadly, it seems that if these twats from tellyland don’t hold themselves to account soon, they’ll make moral miscreants out of most of us. The influence of the cult of celebrity is pervasive and affects the thoughts and behaviour of so many people.
The rich and famous have their top lawyers to protect them from justice. Unfortunately, we don’t have anyone to protect us from the rich and famous. Lady Justice was blindfolded in sex games with royalty years ago and has not seen the truth since then. Her scales are used for weighing drugs, and her sword is used for chopping out lines of coke.
Lady Justice is neither a lady nor just. She’s just another cog in the machinery of power. She helps to maintain the status quo – ensuring that nothing changes, and that power remains where it has always been.
Out of sight.