The hamster crawls out from under the newspaper and hamster crap, waddles over to the food and water and partakes of some. Then he waddles over to the wheel, climbs in, and starts his routine of going nowhere. He takes a break, a little more food and drink, then starts all over again. He finishes and takes on a little more food and water then heads back to the corner and crawls back under the newspaper and hamster crap and falls asleep.
The next day is the same. And the next, ad nauseum. If this sounds at all familiar, then you my friend are a hamster. But don’t despair. There are millions of us. In fact, we are the majority species on the planet. This scenario runs constantly everyday everywhere. We are not in a rut. Rather we are in a chasm, an abyss, a bottomless pit. The hamster is the symbol of futility and the most befitting emblem the Futilist Society.
Futilist was not a word up until now. I know this because every time I type it, the little red squiggly line is displayed under it. And since I invented the word, who better to define it? So, as a public service to the nice folks who compile dictionaries, here then is the definition of a Futilist:
Fut-ti-list (fyoot/til/ist) n. A pessimist on steroids. A Futilist considers Dust in the Wind by Kansas a theme song. The Futilist motto is, “It’s always darkest just before it goes completely black.” A Futilist has made friends with the monsters under the bed. A Futilist is the exact and extreme opposite of the Eternal Optimist, who is someone that, often with the assistance of drugs procured at either the corner drug store or the house on the corner, mistakenly believes that all of this makes sense or will someday.
We are the hamsters that keep the wheels spinning all the while feeling like all we’re really doing is spinning our wheels. The overwhelming majority of us are the middle management, support, and service people that keep the whole thing working while trying to balance raising and supporting a family or ourselves. And as we trudge through our days, we see all the insanity around us and look at it blankly because we’ve become so disassociated with it all. Global warming and economic chaos, war and civil unrest, and new more virulent viruses, all parade across our TV screens in short attention span style and we ask, “Gee, that’s terrible, but what can I do about it?”
There are those out there screaming into the wind that the machine is broken. Our global political mindset consists of a bunch of frat boys having a pissing contest. Our scientific community can’t agree on whether or not, or when, we’re going to simultaneously fry and drown. And our religious leaders continue to shout at the sky that God will save us/kill us/show us the way/give us a bunch of virgins.
Which reminds me; that’s about the stupidest thing to want, if you’re a man. Whatever the number of virgins it is, it’s for ETERNITY! Once you’ve deflowered them all, you got that many unsatisfied women to deal with. I have never heard what the female suicide bombers receive as their rewards in heaven. I doubt that the idea of a bunch of virgin men appeals to them. But religion and all its hilarity will follow in future blogs.
Getting back to the point, I love Bill Maher. The April 24th show was one of the best ever. Howard Dean, I have a newfound respect for you. You were articulate and informed and said a lot of very positive things. I admire your tenacity for trying to put a hopeful sheen on all the terrible news concerning the major issues confronting us. Alas, however, even you had to admit in the end that we are basically screwed.
For those of you who might have missed it, here’s a recap. The economy is in the toilet and will likely remain there for some time. The worst, sadly, is yet to come. Torture is bad and ineffective (duh) and the previous administration did a lot of horrible things to quite a few people. That Pakistan is likely going to try to kill us all. And if they don’t, the environment will. There was also the requisite Republican bashing and eulogies and some extraordinarily humorous New Rules.
It was a futilist fantasy: A veritable cornucopia of reasons to just go ahead and take a handful of sedatives and wash them down with a bottle of Crown Royal. But I’m not going to do that because in spite of it all, I find this whole thing to be, if not amusing, at least fascinating. Besides, I see some very simple solutions to most of these problems, including the global climate change, and that is the gist of this blog.
I am not here to bitch and moan without some sort of remedy. And unlike the crap the pharmaceutical companies foist upon us, there are no harmful side effects to my proposals. There will be sacrifices, but they are physically painless and completely habit forming. You may scoff that an average guy like me [124 out of 248 my senior year of high school] could actually possess the answers to what ails us, so I challenge you to find fault with them. I will listen to any reasonable rebuttal and will admit defeat if proven wrong.
In addition to major topic/thematic posts, there will be occasional snippets of the futile world around us. From the Triad of Futility to home town news, these filler pieces are designed to point out the absurd, futile, and ultimately positive events that happen every day. Some will likely make you smack your forehead in disbelief while others may offer up some semblance of hope, a small ray of light in the otherwise dark tunnel.
This hamster may not be climbing entirely off the wheel (I still gotta eat), but I’m not just going to curl up under the newspaper and hamster crap anymore.
The next day is the same. And the next, ad nauseum. If this sounds at all familiar, then you my friend are a hamster. But don’t despair. There are millions of us. In fact, we are the majority species on the planet. This scenario runs constantly everyday everywhere. We are not in a rut. Rather we are in a chasm, an abyss, a bottomless pit. The hamster is the symbol of futility and the most befitting emblem the Futilist Society.
Futilist was not a word up until now. I know this because every time I type it, the little red squiggly line is displayed under it. And since I invented the word, who better to define it? So, as a public service to the nice folks who compile dictionaries, here then is the definition of a Futilist:
Fut-ti-list (fyoot/til/ist) n. A pessimist on steroids. A Futilist considers Dust in the Wind by Kansas a theme song. The Futilist motto is, “It’s always darkest just before it goes completely black.” A Futilist has made friends with the monsters under the bed. A Futilist is the exact and extreme opposite of the Eternal Optimist, who is someone that, often with the assistance of drugs procured at either the corner drug store or the house on the corner, mistakenly believes that all of this makes sense or will someday.
We are the hamsters that keep the wheels spinning all the while feeling like all we’re really doing is spinning our wheels. The overwhelming majority of us are the middle management, support, and service people that keep the whole thing working while trying to balance raising and supporting a family or ourselves. And as we trudge through our days, we see all the insanity around us and look at it blankly because we’ve become so disassociated with it all. Global warming and economic chaos, war and civil unrest, and new more virulent viruses, all parade across our TV screens in short attention span style and we ask, “Gee, that’s terrible, but what can I do about it?”
There are those out there screaming into the wind that the machine is broken. Our global political mindset consists of a bunch of frat boys having a pissing contest. Our scientific community can’t agree on whether or not, or when, we’re going to simultaneously fry and drown. And our religious leaders continue to shout at the sky that God will save us/kill us/show us the way/give us a bunch of virgins.
Which reminds me; that’s about the stupidest thing to want, if you’re a man. Whatever the number of virgins it is, it’s for ETERNITY! Once you’ve deflowered them all, you got that many unsatisfied women to deal with. I have never heard what the female suicide bombers receive as their rewards in heaven. I doubt that the idea of a bunch of virgin men appeals to them. But religion and all its hilarity will follow in future blogs.
Getting back to the point, I love Bill Maher. The April 24th show was one of the best ever. Howard Dean, I have a newfound respect for you. You were articulate and informed and said a lot of very positive things. I admire your tenacity for trying to put a hopeful sheen on all the terrible news concerning the major issues confronting us. Alas, however, even you had to admit in the end that we are basically screwed.
For those of you who might have missed it, here’s a recap. The economy is in the toilet and will likely remain there for some time. The worst, sadly, is yet to come. Torture is bad and ineffective (duh) and the previous administration did a lot of horrible things to quite a few people. That Pakistan is likely going to try to kill us all. And if they don’t, the environment will. There was also the requisite Republican bashing and eulogies and some extraordinarily humorous New Rules.
It was a futilist fantasy: A veritable cornucopia of reasons to just go ahead and take a handful of sedatives and wash them down with a bottle of Crown Royal. But I’m not going to do that because in spite of it all, I find this whole thing to be, if not amusing, at least fascinating. Besides, I see some very simple solutions to most of these problems, including the global climate change, and that is the gist of this blog.
I am not here to bitch and moan without some sort of remedy. And unlike the crap the pharmaceutical companies foist upon us, there are no harmful side effects to my proposals. There will be sacrifices, but they are physically painless and completely habit forming. You may scoff that an average guy like me [124 out of 248 my senior year of high school] could actually possess the answers to what ails us, so I challenge you to find fault with them. I will listen to any reasonable rebuttal and will admit defeat if proven wrong.
In addition to major topic/thematic posts, there will be occasional snippets of the futile world around us. From the Triad of Futility to home town news, these filler pieces are designed to point out the absurd, futile, and ultimately positive events that happen every day. Some will likely make you smack your forehead in disbelief while others may offer up some semblance of hope, a small ray of light in the otherwise dark tunnel.
This hamster may not be climbing entirely off the wheel (I still gotta eat), but I’m not just going to curl up under the newspaper and hamster crap anymore.
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