Release your inner cynic

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Release your inner cynic

Cynics used to be quite popular. In ancient Greece. Then again so have the prophets been in judeo-christian societies. I can imagine the dislike of the ruling class towards the cynics and the prophets, nobody likes a critic. Not even the critics themselves if they've honed their skills far enough to let their criticism encompass themselves as well.

Mend your ways or to hell with you.

Nice.

Those who can't do, teach. Worse yet, they might become critics. The easy answer towards criticism is to hell with the critics. Kill the prophets. For some reason they didn't bother killing the cynics that much, so it does make you wonder what the major difference is. I don't think the cynics were driven by divine inspiration. Perhaps that would be it. A part of it. Fanatical rabble-rousers are a little too dangerous for themselves and their followers. Or perhaps it is that when you're led on by divine virtue, the other virtues easily fly out the window. Jim Jones, for instance, was a jolly good fellow. Divine inspiration.

One thing you need to do, if you want to keep your skin intact, is never to question the authorities. Never question their authority. Never question the power invested in them, by God, by the will of the people, by their sheer excellence. Never. Do not question. Do not think. The authority has years of experience and knowledge how to do things right. For each and every one of us. The authorities know what's best for us, the best of you. Of course they're brimming with good will, with their shining faces, shining moustaches, carefully combed hair with the parting...was it on the left or the right side? They never think anything else than the whole of the people and the good of all the individuals. Right.

I told a friend of mine that I was getting a little cynical. She got worried. Then I started to think about it and came to the conclusion that I've always been cynical. I'm not becoming. Anything. But from time to time I've had these bouts of faith, like an illness, when I believe that things might be getting better after all, if only we'd all understand that we're all in this together. Don't rock the boat. Better not rock at all. Or roll. Or if you're into it, for Christ's sakes, use contraception. There's too damn many people in this world already, suffering pointlessly because of overpopulation. And poverty. But now the futility of it all just got me overwhelmed. So why bother? Let entropy have it's claim. As long as nobody gets hurt...

...Excuse me I'll just chuckle dryly at that for a second...

Oh, well...as long as you live up to the virtues. As long as you live a virtuous life. But who gives a flying rat's hidey-hole if you don't. Be a rank bastard all you want. Just don't lie about that to yourself. Revel in what you are! Whatever you are, but don't lie about it because you can't stand to look at yourself in the mirror for all the awfulness you've caused. If you can't stand it, then don't keep on doing that thing you do. Do try to remember however that a killer instinct at it's perfection is directed towards itself. But if you're quite happy to be a puppet to the basest of urges...then admit it. Know yourself to be the slave that you are and be happy about it. Eat, poo, grovel, whine, fornicate and love it. That's all there is to it. That's life. Get down and embrace the dirt of the ground of which you are a humble part of. From earth to earth, from dust to dust. That's all there is to it. The meaning of life. Without virtues.