Hindsight 2020

“Fifteen days to flatten the curve.”

Whatever happened with that bullshit, hm? I guess the curve flattened us. Forever.

At least 2020 is ending, right? That’s all that matters. Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. 2021 is going to be worse. It’s only going to get worse. Bet your bottom dollar that tomorrow will be worse.

I know this to be true because I’ve lived amongst other people throughout 2020. Unless all those people stop being gross, phony assholes, 2021 will be more of the same misery. They clearly won’t, so bank on it.

Let me guess; “I need to get laid.” That’s quite an antebellum suggestion there, pard. I don’t have the extra hundreds to hire a prostitute, and I wouldn’t anyway, because fake dayglo nails, tit jobs and STDs are personal turn-offs of mine. Feel free to bring up the girls I should’ve settled down with by now, as though any husband is having any sort of loving coitus in 2020, when the entire female gender has had their collective minds poisoned by identity politics and media. The mainstream narrative has crammed so many anti-masculine ideas into women’s heads in the past year, I’ve written off vaginal intercourse as a fond, fading memory, like safe neighborhoods, spontaneous kissing and unconditional love. Tears in rain.

Here’s the part where the few females in the audience bark their disapproval. Because in 2020, that’s what females do. Shriek their grievances over everyone, because females are more important than anything else in life. (Unless they’re white.) Everything in entertainment is about mollifying hysterical women and catering to their every caprice and whim. This is why courtship is dead. I like to playfully tease girls I desire, and that’s probably rape by now. From the looks of it, anything short of genuflecting before women and proclaiming them queen is rape in 2020.

Harsh, right? Yeah well, life is harsh. I spent decades honing my artistic animus, studying mountains of historical materials, absorbing centuries of culture, for nothing. Any time I offer a factoid or idea among friends or acquaintances, they sigh and roll their eyes. No one gives a fuck. Everyone is too wrapped up in the misery of their own lives. I write pages here to validate myself, and to remind myself that I have many valuable things to offer. If I had to depend on other people to build myself up, I’d have blown my brains out long ago.

I mean; why are you here? For a free laugh? To confirm I’m still alive? Why does that matter?

In case you haven’t noticed, I like people even less than I did when I launched this site six years ago. This is how I write when I’m fed up. When I’m assured I will die alone and penniless. Normally, when I get like this, I review the work of someone whom I idolize, and fantasize about what I would do with their level of acclaim, if I had it. But this method no longer functions.

Every single person or thing I ever admired has been vilified in the mass media. No matter how magnum the opus, it is somehow disparaged. Not even through legitimate criticism; it’s intentional sabotage of the creator’s reputation, organized secretly for the gain of their competitors. You could spend your lifetime sculpting the most beautiful statue humankind has ever seen, and savages will become heroes for razing it. Oh; if you try and fight back, your so-called friends will call you names and stop talking to you.

Right, right, I’m being silly, I just need to “find a woman”. Magically, somehow, during a bullshit lockdown, without my computer, because using the thing with which I do business to get laid disgusts me. And if somehow I manage to “find a woman”, conversation is stalemated and impossible. Even talking about the weather is a fucking “microaggression”.

Call a spade a spade. A courtship in which I don’t get to call any shots whatsoever is as appealing as sitting on rusty tacks. I’m a man, not a fucking handbag accessory. I’m one half of a whole. All the “female empowerment” in the universe won’t change that; nothing will. Frankly, I’m pretty resentful about it. I hope I’ve made that clear. If this is the first time you’ve read an opinion like this, you live in a bubble and you are the problem. Fuck you and your “Great Reset”, you sold-out shit-hatted nincompoop.

Normally this is where I’d do a recap of the year, and the articles/comics I’d written. Fuck that. I’m not doing it anymore. There is nothing about 2020 I want to remember. Nothing I’d share with people, anyway. I have to figure out how to regain respect for my audience. At present I feel stupid for ever expressing respect for anything, ever. Sincerity invites trolling and ridicule. We’re now dealing with an entire generation for whom respect is a weakness to be exploited. Success is meaningless and abstract. World governments yield to domestic terrorist mobs with a smile. Who gives a fuck anymore.

This hereby officially ends my transparency with the public. Unless you pay me, expect me to deceive you. Until you tangibly prove otherwise, I will treat you as my enemy. I will gleefully humiliate you. I will betray any and all secrets you confided in me. I wasted ten years kissing ass on social media to promote myself. I’ll never get a high-paying gig with a studio, or a big commission doing something I believe in. I’ll never get to work with a company that believes in what I do. I’ll never own a house, and I’ll probably never own a car again, even though I did from ages 16 to 33. The remainder of my life on this earth will be spent scrounging and living out of shoebox apartments, in towns I hate, filled with people who hate me. Fuck you.

I came from a world wherein talent and accomplishment meant something. A world where with enough drive and ability, you could become almost anything. A world where creators were respected and venerated; where ideas were welcomed, not feared. A world where I was permitted to create my best work so far.

That world is dead. Those who murdered it control you now. They lied to you and said they were your friends, and you believed it, because you wanted to. You went out of your way to promote them, for nothing. You let the media destroy your relationships with other people, because you gave in to The Lie. You wouldn’t listen to your elders, so they died. After all, they weren’t important enough to care about, with all their wisdom and helpful anecdotes. Like the world I knew and loved, they were only so much dead weight.

Enjoy your “Great Reset”. In truth, I’d rather die. Alone.

Got a feeling ’21
Is going to be a good year
Especially if you and me
See it in together

So you think ’21
Is going to be a good year?
It could be good for me and her
But you and her, no, never!
I have no reason to be over-optimistic
But somehow, when you smile
I could brave bad weather

What about the boy?
What about the boy?
What about the boy?
He saw it all!

You didn’t hear it
(I heard it)
You didn’t see it
(I saw it)
You won’t say nothing to no one
(I won’t say nothing to no one)
Never in your life
(Never in my life)
You never heard it

(I heard it)
How absurd it all seems
Without any proof
(How absurd it all seems without any proof)

You didn’t hear it
(I heard it)
You didn’t see it
(I saw it)
You never heard it, not a word of it!
(I heard it, every word of it)
You won’t say nothing to no one
(I won’t say nothing to no one)
Never tell a soul
What you know is the truth
(Never tell a soul
What I know is the truth)

Got a feeling ’21
Is going to be a good year
Especially if you and me
See it in together
Got a feeling ’21
Is going to be a good year
Especially if you and me
See it in together
I have no reason to be over-optimistic
But somehow, when you smile
I could brave bad weather

What about the boy?

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