Bile and Believerism

Very few people seem to understand this, but I’m really not a cynic.  I might come across jaded and judgemental and intolerant, and well, yes, I probably am.  Not to mention that at any given time, I can probably name at least a dozen things that are specifically pissing me off.  A lot of my blogs will more than likely feel like they’ve been sprayed straight out of my bile duct in concentrated – if barely controlled – jets.  But seriously, do you think I could get this worked up if I didn’t really, really give a shit.  You can only feel properly, utterly disappointed, if you’ve first dared to harbour hope.   Disillusionment strikes harshest  at the true believer.  And I do believe.

I believe that we, as a species, are the greatest untapped resource on the planet, and the most precious.  I believe that the vastness of our potential to accomplish great things is exceeded only by the magnitude of our failure to realise it.  I believe mankind to be the single best and the single worst phenomenon to have happened to this little rock we’ve randomly evolved on.  I believe we have the capacity to make the world better.

Looking around, it’s hard not to be disappointed.  We have all this going for us, the potential for true greatness and enlightenment and so much else, yet we settle for mediocrity.  More than that, we have learned to venerate mediocrity, because we have been taught to believe it is the most we can hope for.

We accept that politicians will be at best inept and shady, and at worst totally corrupt and insane, and we don’t mind.  We don’t bat an eyelid when Peter Mandelson pops up in some new government post, some months after being ushered out in disgrace for getting caught doing something inglorious and twatty, again.  We elected Boris Johnson to be mayor of the capital city, on the basis that he did an amusing job of fucking up chairing a popular topical TV show.  Blair earns millions as Peace Envoy to the Middle East after taking an unwilling UK to war with Iraq, and no one has tried shooting him for the sheer, mind-blowing affront, which is in no better taste than sending Jon Venables to be Denise Bulger’s grief counsellor.

We revere celebrities, regardless of how their fame has been earned.  We feel compelled to follow their lives down to the trashiest and most trivial of details.  We invite shallow strangers into our homes every time we tune into one of the far-too-numerous reality TV shows.  We give a little more power to people who don’t deserve it, every time we pick up a copy of Heat Magazine.

To quote some Tyler Durden:

“I see the strongest and the smartest men who have ever lived…  You have a class of young strong men and women, and they want to give their lives to something.  Advertising has these people chasing cars and clothes they don’t need.  Generations have been working in jobs they hate, just so they can buy what they don’t really need.”

I believe we can do better than this.  So I’m not a cynic.  Just don’t expect me to take it well when I see us ballsing it all up so badly.

In the words of another angry idealist:

“Fuck this.  I want a better world.”

– Stevie Gray –

Yeah, there's me looking all fierce and moody...


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