He Got the Job

In 2005, amid a storm of corruption charges, Jacob Zuma was fired from his position as Deputy President of South Africa. The charges were postponed following the conviction of one of his cronies, serial fraudster Schabir Shaik, and Zuma's case was dropped; prosecutors now say that they may re-open the case, along with new charges of tax evasion...

After Zuma's firing, he was accused, charged and tried of the rape of a 31- year old family friend.
During his trial, Zuma stated:

his accuser -- a family friend less than half his age -- made clear her sexual intent by entering his home wearing a miniskirt. He also said that he knew, before having sex with her without a condom, that she had HIV, and that he showered afterward to limit the risk of infection.

During his testimony, Zuma stated that the risk of contracting HIV/AIDS from having unprotected sex was minimal.
His male supporters declared that they, in a show of solidarity, would 'stop wearing the condom'. After all, the risk was minimal, right?.

By 2006, the S.A. Dept. of Health found that, nationally, 29.1 percent of all pregnant women carried the HIV virus.
29.1 percent.

It's important to remember that this man was once Deputy President of South Africa, and that one of his duties was to implement programs to help prevent the spread of HIV/AIDS; which , it should be obvious, cannot be 'washed-off with a shower', but which can be spread by unprotected sex, consensual or not.

Zuma has what some might politely refer to as a "checkered past", yet he does not lack for supporters - I am no expert on South African politics, but I am immediately suspicious of any man who uses a woman's style of dress (" of course she wanted me to rape her, she wore a mini-skirt... ") in his own defense at a rape trial. I also distrust the judgment of anyone who would knowingly have unprotected sex with an HIV-positive partner*...raping an AIDS victim shows an appalling lack of judgment, not to mention humanity- oops- I meant allegedly raping...after all, Zuma was not convicted.


(* Zuma claims he is HIV-free. Only a suicidal idiot or an infected person would knowingly have unsafe sex with an HIV victim, which Zuma admits to doing. Is Zuma an idiot or is he infected? My guess would be both.)

Now, you might think that a man with this many blemishes on his past would have a hard time finding a job, much less winning an election, but you'd be wrong.
Jacob Zuma has a new job- he was elected to head the African National Congress.

So when you look at the uninspiring row of schmucks on display at the next American presidential debate, remember this: It could always be worse.

Playbook Lookback

I started following politics the same year that I started following pro football. That year was 1972.
I was six years old and very impressionable- my favorite animal was the dolphin and the best NFL team in history were the unbeaten 1972 Miami Dolphins- they became my favorite team.

By that logic, I should be a Republican.
In the 1972 Presidential Election the Democratic Party got it's ass whipped. Hard.
But my adults told me that Nixon was a liar and a criminal and that if he got elected, we'd see some bad things happen. My adults were correct.






I am still a Miami Dolphins fan. This year's Dolphins may well be the worst NFL team that isn't the 1976 Tampa Bay Bucs, but I'm still a believer. One day we will win a game. It just won't be this year.



This season, Miami fans are so ashamed of their team's shoddy performance that they have started wearing bags on their heads at home games. They still attend, but only to display their outrage, sorrow and frustration.


That is how I feel about the current state of American politics. If I lived in Iowa, I'd be making a bag right now.

I am not certain who I want as President but I do know a few things:

- I don't want a Republican. I'm not exactly gushing with love for the Democrats, but they are slightly the lesser of two evils.
Ralph Nader was wrong. It did matter who won in 2000. And 2004.

- I don't want anyone who voted to give George Bush the power to start a war in Iraq. I knew that was disaster in the making- I wish I had been proven wrong, but I wasn't.
I said Bush was a liar and a criminal and if he got his war, bad things would happen. This was a dangerous opinion in 2002, but I stuck to it and I still do.

- I would rather have a platitude-spewing, egg-laying evolutionary freak in the White House than a Bible-thumping, war-mongering Creationist.

-There is no Platypus Party- but there should be.

Being Australian, Patty (above) sets an exemplary democratic example. Australia recently voted their Prime Minister out of office for being too much like George Bush. Strangely, in Australia the Liberals are the conservative party- I think it's because they are south of the equator. Bullshit flushes backwards in the Southern Hemisphere.

Honestly, I can't imagine why anyone would want to be President. They- and we- are fucked from Day One. It's like accepting a job as manager of a store that has "Going-out-of-Business" signs posted on the windows...I did that once. It didn't work out.

Good luck.

Hang in there, baby!

Remember: The plummet of a thousand feet begins with a single step!

Not Pictured

One of my friends recently put together a slide show of pics from our station's last Fund Drive. It's on display at the top of the stairs when you enter the building- we walked past it last night and my friend remarked as to how there wasn't a single picture of me in the batch...during Fund Week I did six hours of live sound, ten hours of broadcast time and a three-hour phone shift and there isn't a single picture of me in the whole presentation...I swear, sometimes I feel as if I'm a ghost that slips in and out of the corporeal realm; that I'm invisible most of the time...I walk among the living, but to them I'm just a chilly draft in an otherwise warm room.

Do you know that vague sense of uneasiness you sometimes feel upon waking after a strange dream? That feeling is me, wishing that I could touch you and knowing that I can't.

-----------------------------------
THE NEW BREAKFAST SNOB, OCT. 28, 2007:

Funkadelic- The Song is Familiar
The waitress hasn't even brought our drinks over and my date has already begun describing herself as 'asexual'. That is one hell of a conversational icebreaker. King of the world! Glub...

Pretty Things- October 26
It's actually October 28 today... listening to Phil May plaintively croon ,"If I wanted to, could I depend on you , my friend?" and having the guitar sadly answer, " no, you are on your own" usually breaks my heart, but this morning that would be akin to using a hand grenade to destroy dust...my heart remains unchanged.

Jimi Hendrix- Little Miss Strange
Maybe she's the devil in disguise...naaah.

Jefferson Airplane- Young Girl Sunday Blues
Step into my life...nope, not that either.

Loreena McKennitt- Kecharitomene
Trying-and failing- to pronounce this song title actually cheers me up. I don't know why.

Blonde Redhead- Hated Because Of Great Qualities
I don't feel hated because of my great qualities. I do feel unappreciated and it makes me wonder if I'm not kidding myself; perhaps I actually suck at everything and I'm just too dense to know it.

Al Stewart- Sirens of Titan
Yeah, I know I already played it the other week, but this is my show and this song cheers me up. Who wants to listen to a depressed DJ? Trust me, it's a lot worse than reading a depressing blog.

Steely Dan- Only a Fool Would Say That
Right.

Television- See No Evil
Deaf, dumb and blind. Braille rocks!

Rickie Lee Jones- Lucky Guy
Friday night I was thinking to myself what a lucky guy I was...I was very optimistic. I shared this feeling with other people.

Tuxedomoon- Jinx
I should learn to keep my hopes to myself.

Marianne Faithfull- Annabelle Lee
Marianne reads Edgar Allan Poe's tragic poem. For me, it doesn't get a whole lot better than that. Sad, eh?

Marianne Faithfull- Witch's Song
Broken English (1979) is one of those rare records that changed everything without ever gaining widespread recognition- remarkable stuff. Happy Halloween!

Ray Manzarek- Wake Up Screaming
I love this song...Ex-Doors keyboardist Ray Manzarek opens up with a evil 'M'whahahahh' laugh, then there are sound FX of a screeching cat, a Joe Walsh slide guitar solo and a snippet of Jim Morrison's awful poetry, read by none other than a then-unknown young lady named Patti Smith. A year later,Patti started putting out records of her own...


Alan Parsons- A Dream Within a Dream
The CD re-release of Tales of Mystery and Imagination opens with Orson Welles reading Edgar Allan Poe's Dream within a Dream, a wonderful piece which was omitted from the original vinyl.

Alan Parsons- The Raven
For Lenore. Don't think I'm not tempted.

Robyn Hitchcock- Grooving on an Inner Plane
"I've been through all of this before..." I'm not that tempted.

Jethro Tull- Up To Me
What else is new?

The Kinks- Love Me Till The Sun Shines
A Dave Davies song that captures a certain feeling for me. Wishful thinking, is what.

The Kinks- Wicked Annabella
Oooo...spooky! It's about a witch.

Damien Dempsey- I Believe in Love
I believe in romantic love in the same way that some people believe in God. I have never experienced it, nor can I offer any solid evidence that such a thing truly exists (in my universe, anyway), yet I have faith that someday I will be saved, so to speak.
In other words, I am insane and hopeless.

Black Sabbath- A National Acrobat
Gotta have some Black Sabbath- it's Halloween. Factoid: Black Sabbath were good musicians!

Jefferson Starship- Devil's Den
This song is a cautionary tale about mortal men assuming Divine Right and the inevitable corruption and collapse of those who hold unchecked power...this is Watergate Rock, but the message rings true today.

Marianne Faithfull- Gloomy Sunday
I once had a 'dispute' with an asshat blogger who was convinced that I had a nefarious plan to kill myself 0n-air during my New Year's broadcast. Seriously- he even threatened to call the station's management and warn them of my scheme, which would have been hilarious, since I would have answered the phone, being the only one there and all...

Caller: " I want to warn you that your DJ is a sick man. He is going to kill himself during his show. I saw the symbols on his website, I've saved screenshots of everything he's ever posted on his blog and I have shared them with a team of highly skilled professionals and they all agree- he is dangerous. You can tell from the picture on his blog. It's of a lightbulb! "

Me: "Gosh, that's terrible. Here's what I need for you to do: Call the FBI and tell them exactly what you just told me. Verbatim. When they come to your house, you can explain it all in great detail. Tell them you can read thoughts over the internet- they love that sort of call."

He never called the studio ,but since then I've been tempted to do a two-hour show entirely comprised of versions of Gloomy Sunday, which is one of the world's greatest suicide ballads.

Golden Palominos- Little Suicides
This song isn't about suicide at all.

Flaming Groovies- She's Falling Apart
Where there is life, there is sorrow...sometimes it becomes transcendent; beautiful in a painful, strange and helpless way. This song tells just such a story.

Patti Smith- Dancing Barefoot
Like some heroine. Like some heroin?

Sinead O'Connor- Drink Before the War
I have ups and downs with Sinead, but this song stays fresh to me. Sadly.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Next: Some good news and some bad news.

It's All Connected

There's an old parlor game called something along the lines of : Seven Degrees of Francis Bacon. The game is really more of a connect-the-dots exercise than the study in inductive reasoning suggested by the name- in it, one person gives another person the name of a celebrity. That person then has to mentally link the celeb with Sir Francis Bacon using seven or fewer 'connections' to do so.
For example, you might say: Brian Dennehy. Then I would have to find a relationship between Mr. Dennehy and Sir Francis in seven or fewer steps.

This one is easy:

1: Dennehy played a Montague in the 1990's movie version of Romeo and Juliet.
2: R & J was based on a play of the same name, written by some guy named Shakespeare.
3: Shakespeare's plays were written by Sir Francis Bacon.*

Ta-Da!

This week's 1980's playlist is full of strange and not-so-strange connections. Some I will explain, others I won't.


Opal- She's a Diamond
This band features Kendra Smith, who also played with the Dream Syndicate. I forgot to play the DS. First song in and I've already fucked it up. Oh well.

Rickie Lee Jones- Jukebox Fury
This is good.

Cyndi Lauper- She Bop
Rumor has it that this song is about female masturbation, but everyone knows women don't do that. I have no idea what this song is really about- glaucoma, maybe? She mentions going blind.

Dukes of Stratosphere- Vanishing Girl
Do you miss me as much as I miss you? I hope not. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone, including you.

Danielle Dax- Flashback
Wipe that frown!

Thomas Dolby- One of Our Submarines
Missing...missing...missing...

Bernie Krause- Jungle Shoes
Cool funky synth-based instrumental with animal noises mixed in. For Ruby.

Romeo Void- Flashflood
This is for Whim. The first line of the song mentions a puddle on an apartment floor.

Devo- Jerkin' Back and Forth
I can totally relate to the lyrics of this horny instrumental. By 'horny', I refer to the catchy horn section featured on it. Back and Forth is three words? Fuck. Who knew?

Joe Jackson- Fifty Dollar Love Affair
Actually, it was six hundred dollars. I have the collection notice to prove it. Thanks.

Elvis Costello- Every Day I Write The Book
Dedicated to my very first Vanishing Girl.

Oingo Boingo- Fill the Void
For VG #2. Patterns hurt.

Pat Benatar- I Need a Lover
Consider this statement:Virginia is for lovers, therefore all Virginians are lovers. Sir Francis Bacon would label that statement as extremely weak inductive reasoning.
(Notes: John Cougar Melonhead wrote this song for Benatar. Pat Benatar is from Richmond, Va. And it's from 1979, not the 80's. Oh well...)


Frank Zappa- G-Spot Tornado
Another instrumental with great lyrics. Can anyone tell me what this song has in common with the next one? (Hint:It involves laziness on the part of yours truly)

Screaming Tribesmen- In His Shoes
Well?

The Bangles- Let It Go
I am dedicating songs to people who have forgotten that I exist. I must be nuts.

X- Come Back To Me
One cannot return to where one has never been. Were you ever really here?

Lou Reed- My Friend George
My friend George came into the studio and hung out with me for a while, soaking up the air-conditioning. Hey George! What's the word?

Mother Gong- Mirror
One of the more obscure offshoots of pioneering European psychedelic band Gong. Gong have their own planet and it is populated with Pot Head Pixies (PHP) who drive around in Teapot Taxis. It's not surprising that I am a huge fan of Gong.

Steve Hillage - Waiting
Steve, of course, was the best guitar player Gong ever had. This solo album is part of a two- record set called Day and Night. One album is white and has open eyes on the cover. The other is black and features closed eyes. Steve is a flake but he's an amazing musician.

Stranglers- Skin Deep
Remember when she got up and walked out with the Other Guy? That happened to me too.

The Kinks- Better Things
Here's wishing...

King Crimson- Frame by Frame
I used to think that this title was a film reference. Now that paranoia has taken over my life, I think it means Frame as in setting someone else up to take the blame, e.g., why is there red dye all over my album collection?

Tuxedomoon- What Use?
Favorite lyric: "What's the use in feeling betrayed?" Indeed.

Tom Tom Club -It's a Foxy World
Equal pay for equal work. The Eighties are over and things are still uneven. I suspect they always will be, but at least we can try. Music helps.

Talking Heads-Seen and not Heard
The Talking Heads contain members of the Tom Tom Club. King Crimson guitarist Adrian Belew plays on this album, 1980's Remain In Light. I explained it all in great detail to a caller. I love my callers and they actually love me back- that almost never happens in 'real life'...sigh.

Tom Verlaine- Present Arrived
I know you got that. You're welcome.

XTC- Seagulls Screaming Kiss Her, Kiss Her
He who hesitates is lost...good things come to he who waits. I hate it when platitudes conflict.

Golden Palominos- The Push and the Shove
I'm still steamed over how I got fired. Why did it have to be like that?

The Residents- Why Didn't I Think of That?
Ha!

Snakefinger- Smelly Tongues
Snake was my hero. He played guitar with the Residents. Curiously, I briefly played in a band with ex-Richmonder John Cook, who replaced Snake after Snake died. Snake passed away a few weeks after I met him at a Richmond show. Life is weird.

My radio shows are the shortest two hours of my week. I can't believe it's over already. Good thing I have another one tomorrow morning.


*this might not be true

Winners and Loser

Wednesday we had a 'contest' post. It was based on information found on the Blooger dashboard telling us that we had published 1,000 posts.

Pretty simple, eh?

Nope. There were variables.

As if having a million furiously typing chimps wasn't enough to manage, I had to go and employ a human assistant that can't accomplish the most simple of tasks...count to one thousand, I ask him; write less about politics and more about sex and celebrities, I implore in a "constructive" manner; write something that'll require swimsuit pics, I suggest...bah!

I get variables.

Variables.

Christ-in-a-motherfuckin'-Cuisinart, even this seemingly simple enumeration was beyond my lackey's ken.

First: He forgot to account for all our unpublished drafts- I now know that I only publish 87.8% of what is written for Blooger- my rejects could fill several blogs. Several shitty blogs- you should see the crap that guy tries to foist off on me- a drunken chimpanzee could do better.
I should know, I wind up re-writing half the crap that does see publication.

Second: Some of those posts are re-runs. History repeats itself and so do we.

Third: A number were written by Susanne, who is an independent poster and isn't currently aware that there's a talking chimp calling the shots here. She may well have guessed the truth by now.

Lastly: I have no idea how many posts have been deleted. I'm guessing at least 100, but I don't trust my assistant. He writes god-awful drek , leaves it up just long enough to embarrass himself and then pulls it down....he thinks I don't know this.

So we have no idea what the correct answer is. Does it even matter?

It should be obvious to the web-savvy reader that there are no real Free Lunches or Big Prizes
on-line.
Click the Flashing Target to claim your Free Laptop!
uh huh.


Right, whatever...so who the fuck won?

That depends on your perspective:

If your glass if half-full, you can congratulate yourself. You are a winner! Depending on how the data is interpreted , all of the answers given are (were) correct. Even Sling's!

If your glass is half-empty....well, let's just say you didn't win. There's only room for one loser on this blog and that position has been filled since Post One.

If your glass is reduced to shiny smithereens and stored in a tattered Zip-Loc bag that leaks like a sieve- welcome to my world.


Would you spare us the bullshit and just get to the prize?

Well, all the entries were 'virtual', so the prize is likewise of a 'virtual' nature.

What's a virtual prize, you cheap bastard?

Use your imagination. Literally.


I am sorry that I have nothing more tangible to offer, but I feel like a winner every time you read this blog.

Thanks for that feeling.

Many Happy Returns,

Pissy the Chimp
Editor/Publisher, Camelsbackandforth

Camouflage

It doesn't look like things went very well during my two-month absence from work. I started last Weds and was told that HR Guy was coming down from HQ on Friday to give us a training session on "Professionalism in the Workplace". New Guy, who was the main beneficiary of this inane exercise, didn't even show up to work that Friday, which sort of explains why we were having the meeting in the first place.

The boss and I were given new handbooks explaining the new uniforms we are required to wear.

Uniforms? What the fuck? I read a bit of the booklet.

"We are Records Management. Document Services wears uniforms. We don't."

"Right. Well, here are some guidelines about dressing on the job."

I skim the documents...the word "camouflage" catches my eye- there's nearly an entire page under this heading.
How strange. I would think that wearing camouflage clothing to work would simply be prohibited, it's a Law Firm, not a Sporting Goods shop... but there's quite a bit of detail here...hmmmm:

-Loose, puffy sleeves can have a 'slimming' effect , as can certain darker colors...avoid bold patterns and tight or clingy garments...

Huh? This is a "how-to guide" for women to "camouflage" a few extra pounds! I wonder how women who receive this booklet feel- they should be insulted; regardless of weight, the whole idea of instructing ladies to "camo" their bodies seems extremely sexist to me- who are they supposed to be hiding the flab from anyway? For whose benefit?

Then we watch a grainy 1990's VHS tape about how to shake hands firmly and make eye contact when speaking to others.

Remember: You only get one chance to make a first impression!
(I have hated that platitude since the very first time I heard it)

Did you know that mumbling, twisting your hair and staring at the floor can lead people to have an unfavorable opinion of your professional competence?
That's what the video tells us.
It's important to look attentive even when you don't give a shit.

After the vid, HR Guy asks us to discuss the video. There are three of us in the room. At 40, I'm the youngest by several years.
I push the various papers aside.

"Look, we are a bunch of old men. We already know how to dress for work. Even when I was a kid I knew how to dress for work. If you give me a wimpy handshake I will immediately dislike you and if you twirl your hair into your mouth I'll think you're stupid and I don't need to watch a video to reinforce those prejudices. All I need is a wimpy handshake or some hair twirling."

HR Guy is smiling. He's visibly relieved to hear my speech. Our lesson is concluded.

We spend an hour talking about football and women and what to do with kids these days, tsk, and then it's time for lunch and hell, might as well knock off early, it being Friday and all.

Matter

Kilgore Trout once wrote a short story which was a dialogue between two pieces of yeast. They were discussing the possible purposes of life as they ate sugar and suffocated in their own excrement. Because of their limited intelligence, they never came close to guessing that they were making champagne.

As a child, one of my first enduring loves was for dinosaurs; paleontology to be more precise- I loved my trilobites just as much as my allosaurus ; can't have archaeoptyrx without having 'T.Rex' first (archaEopTyRX, see?), and did you know that some scientists used to speculate that Rex actually had a form of rudimentary plumage, although I think it that idea has been abandoned...

For a period, I refused to watch movies that featured dinosaurs alongside humans- hogwash! I would declare, full of childish indignation- everyone knows the dinosaurs were extinct for millions of years before homo sapiens walked the earth...sheesh. Insufferable fucker, I was.
Was?
At least nowadays I can enjoy movies where dinosaurs eat people without ruining it for everyone else by shouting out how there is no way you would ever see a mastodon and a pterodactyl together in "real life".

When I was ten, I read A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller ; it profoundly changed my thinking, suddenly it dawned on my young mind that not only was man trying to destroy himself, he was going to fail, and he was going to use that failure as inspiration to try harder at the next attempt at self-destruction and so on...

But, as I would cheerily point out, none of it really matters anyway because the sun will eventually explode and destroy the solar system, which will slooowlly be sucked into a black hole at the center of the universe, which will then contract for eons upon eons , crushed by gravity until it eventually vomits forth another universe which will very likely be inhabited by organisms just as wretched as humans could ever wish to be.

I started reading books that were beyond my years or just plain weird: Ellison, Burgess, wildlife guides, Burroughs, atlases,Vonnegut, almanacs, Batman comics,Heller, Illuminatus, various tombstones etc.... nowadays, I doubt that our schools would encourage or even allow such reading by grade-schoolers, but back then it didn't matter.

Often, I didn't even have to attend class.

Did you know that galaxies die? They do.

It's hard to study while galaxies are dying.
As a child, it's hard to explain this to adults without scaring them.
When I got older I had more and more classes that didn't exactly involve attendance, it was easier for every one that way.
It saved a lot of explaining.

I knew the system was bullshit and I played it so that I wouldn't have to do much of anything. I'd just write a few papers about books I would've read anyway, get the teachers all worked up and by the time they discovered what a truly fucked-up child I was- that they'd basically been conned out of giving me 'real' homework and into giving me plum assignments- I'd be whisked away to another school, soon to be standing in front of yet another group of unfamiliar children, explaining how it's better to read the glossary first when you read A Clockwork Orange, otherwise they might find it confusing.


So.

Long ago there were dinosaurs, then they died (and all the smart people knew it was a meteor, even then) and eventually they turned into oil, which we turn into gasoline -which was being rationed back then because OPEC wanted to punish the US for it's support of Israel in whatever war was raging in the Middle East at that time -Yom Kippur, I think, as if it matters.
Yeah, 1973...fuck, it really does seem like yesterday. Like last hour.

Jesus, back then I was too busy watching the nightly 'Nam body counts to understand the nuances of Middle East politics.
(I still don't understand those nuances, perhaps because there are no nuances to understand)

Plus, I was 8 years old and didn't understand a lot of things that I currently don't understand - I just have a better understanding of my lack of understanding now , is all.



Anyhow, the dinosaurs are gone and surely aren't coming back during my wholly insignificant lifetime, besides, like I said, the whole Universe is constantly going BOOM! crush BOOM! anyway, so why bother with anything- every thing's doomed to extinction, subject to be extinguished all at once or over billions of years- what difference does it make?

My 5th grade teacher asked me where I learned to be so nihilistic.

Nowhere. Duh.

I used the same line in 6th grade, in response to the same question.

By the time I was 12, I had used science and reason to soundly establish my own insignificance as well as that of everyone and everything around me. A sort of cosmic resignation sank into my spirit-didn't break it, mind you; though it might seem that way from the outside. In truth, I think I really enjoyed the awesome power of negation that comes with knowing more than is good for oneself.

Suck it up, keep on truckin' yadda yadda 'cos it don't mean shit nohow, right?

Even though I clearly understood, -understand, rather - just how empty, pointless, pathetic and unremarkable my puny existence is, I still didn't lose interest...I can't stop the stars from exploding, but it would be cool to watch one blow up.




















I have been asked, more than once, why I bother carrying on if I feel that life is so hopeless...these inquiries miss the point, misinterpreting my meaning- I never said life is hopeless.

I don't believe life is hopeless- if it was, I would be dead right now because right now all I have is hope.

I am. Therefore. Life is not hopeless.
Sum ergo whatever...

Life, however, is pointless, especially when viewed on a cosmic scale.
Can't argue with that.
We don't mean diddley-squat.
Boom!
Back to dust, wait for gravity to start forming new planets, don't hold your breath 'cos this might take a long time, Rocketman...

I honestly don't care if life is pointless. I'm a lifetime supporter of pointless causes, a pillar of pointlessness in my community, an ardent champion of Things That Don't Mean Shit-which, by my childhood definition, is everything and everyone, past present and future. I'm passionately pointless and pointlessly passionate.

For no reason.
I can't justify it.
I don't have to- I don't even pretend that any of it means anything.
Why should I?

I know it's useless, that nothing I do will ever mean anything, that my old fantasies are absurd and that there might not be any new dreams to replace them with... but so what?

I don't have the willpower necessary to give up living.
I'm too lazy to do nothing.
It's hard work, this doing of nothing. Just thinking about it wears me out.

I might as well try to do something. If nothing matters, it can't hurt to try.