Missive from the border between conscious states

Jesus Christ, I’m tired. I have returned from a three-day sojourn in the capital, a not-insignificant chunk of which was spent trying to urge my body into sleep while precariously perched on the side of a mattress, crammed half-way into the third-floor bathroom. As a consequence, my mind is not all it was. It feels as though it’s been pulled out and replaced by a cabbage – the mouldy, old, reduced-aisle kind. Yuck. Perhaps the morrow will find me in better spirits.

It’s the morrow. My spirits fare no better. I shall, therefore, tend toward brevity. The European elections came in. UKIP did really rather well, and the Lib Dems did rather poorly – which was entirely expected. These results were echoed across the continent, with all of the ‘I hate the EU’ parties doing very well at the expense of their wet-liberal Europhile counterparts. That sucks.

Eugh. But I don’t have the energy to be angry about it. Which is almost liberating, in a way. Fuck it. Who cares about politics? For the next week or so, not me. Fuck it.

There must be other news.  Other things that have happened.  Yes.  A guy in America killed a bunch of people. He had a great deal of energy available to be angry. Why is that, you say? Here’s what he had to say:

“Every single time I’ve seen a guy walk around with his beautiful girlfriend, I’ve always wanted to kill them both in the most painful way possible. They deserve it. They must be punished. The males deserve to be punished for living a better and more pleasurable life than me, and the females deserve to be punished for giving that pleasurable life to those males instead of me. On the Day of Retribution, I will finally be able to punish them  ALL.”

Okay, then. There really isn’t anything like the ravings of a lunatic to freshen you up on a rainy Tuesday morning. Yes, this person was one of those mass-murderers that write a lengthy manifesto – a document whose contents have now been exhaustively been pored over by many thousands of people. There’s a lesson there for all aspirant writers with a political bent: if you want to be read, and your views considered, then there’s nothing quite as effective as a killing spree.

His main motivator, as far as I can see, seems to be jealousy toward everyone that’s getting laid. Which really is not all that rational a motivation, is it? It should be taken about as seriously as me going on a killing–spree in some French vineyard as retribution for my hangover.  And it seems that everyone agrees.  There must be a deeper underlying cause which much be uprooted. There are a lot of possible candidates.  It’s the government, the media, western culture, pornography, Harry Potter, delete as you deem appropriate.

I have returned to find the internet awash with dubious insight into human psychology. And unless we all make whatever political changes they want, these insightful people claim, this will happen again and again. Or, as they write it:

Again. 

And Again.

Which I’m told was once a very clever linguistic device.  Oh Lord, it’s exhausting. I suspect we’re only really hearing about this mad-killer dude in England is because the mad killer dude happened to be English.  Another reason why he was a fuck.

Is this really a big deal?  It’s a big deal in much the same way that that chap who stabbed his schoolteacher a month or so ago was a big deal. Anyone remember his name? Anyone remember the victim’s name? You’re not allowed to Google it.  A big deal for those affected; for the rest of us, not so much. 

Even if I were my usual perky self I doubt I’d be able to offer the slightest glimmer of insight into the matter. Leaving aside the obvious reason – ie. that he was a crazy bastard – I don’t really know why he did it. I do know that people have been murdered for far more trivial reasons that that before. People have killed one another after getting into arguments about exactly how tall Tom Cruise is; I don’t recall any huge self-flagellation session following those sorts of incidents.

When you’ve all worked out the problem of murder, then please let me know. In the meantime, I’m going back to sleep.

Actually, I have to go to work.   Fuck it.

Until whatever time I deem appropriate.

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