The Douchebag Bible (8 page)

BOOK: The Douchebag Bible
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is that, just a million years ago, the Earth’s climate was

completely different than it is now. The sea level was 80 feet

higher. The air was far more humid and stifling. Imagine

planet Louisiana. It got from there to here without our help.

Why do we automatically assume that it must be our fault that

it’s going back again?

Sure, adjusting to a changing climate will suck, but

that’s what evolution is for—adapting. And if the planet

becomes uninhabitable, that would certainly suck but we’ve

already got caffeinated donuts and Die Hard 4 . . . I think it’s

safe to say that we’ve had a good run.

The conservative’s arguments for what’s wrong in the

world makes even less sense. At least liberals have the

scientific community behind their doomsday scenario. The

neocons have only got “biblical” evidence (read: jack shit).

And the conservative idea of hell on earth is rampant

alternative sex and drugs with no legal consequences

whatsoever. If this hell were ever realized, people like me

would find themselves in heaven.

Meanwhile, their idea of heaven—you know, clouds and

harps and all that jazz, er, gospel—is about the least appealing

thing in the world to anyone with half a brain and a set of balls

(don’t be offended ladies, the analogy could as easily be ‘and a

functional cunt’) It would be like the worst hell imaginable!

Eternal bliss may sound good to the people who have never

even had a single second of bliss in their lives, but those of us

who have orgasmed without procreation even crossing our

minds and not felt so much as a single iota of guilt afterwards,

know that there is little worse in life (or afterlife, I’d presume)

than too much of a good thing.

For the sake of making a larger point, let’s all pretend

that the conservative notion of human liberty as the

apotheosis of immorality is, indeed, as bad as they think it is.

Let’s just ask ourselves these two questions:

Could the liberals be right about the world being

fucked by global warming?

Could the conservatives be right about the world being

fucked by God?

The respective answers are maybe and no.

But the more important question here is, “what about

the people who think things are the best they’ve ever been and

are getting better?” We exist, I assure you. Don’t we get a say

in all this? Where’s our media exposure? Where are our

celebrity icons? Our propaganda films?

All we’ve really got is that stupid fucking Bobby

McFerrin song, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy.” But how can we not

worry when everyone else assures us that there’s so many

things that we need to worry about? How can we be happy in

a world full of miserable people?

Being an optimist sucks.

THE OUTSIDER GENERATION

In all my years of spouting my crazy opinions, I have no

recollection—not one—of ever changing anyone's mind about

anything.

I've written essays and poems and songs and stories and

paragraph-long insanities on a million different subjects, but

none of it has ever made anyone who didn’t already agree with

me say, “Wow, you’re right!” I've constructed arguments that

I believed to be air-tight, but my enemies keep breathing

comfortably. I've produced, on a few occasions, nearly

incontrovertible evidence to back up this claim or that claim,

but the dissenters only scowled at me and stayed their course.

As I've stayed mine.

I state my opinion, you state yours—and neither of us

changes our mind? Neither of us improves or evolves in any

immediately conceivable way?

No one wants to change their mind about anything.

They actively resist it. They hate the very notion of it. If you

examine the words "change your mind" closely, with a

psychologist’s eye, it's easy to see the source of these fears.

Hell, if there was ever a word that scared the living pig

shit out of every man walking this little ball of shit in our toilet

bowl of a galaxy, its change:

"Things change," says the scraggly villain when

the hero falls.

"You've changed," says your girl or boyfriend just

before they dump you.

"He's changing!" screams the protagonist of a

werewolf

story

when

someone

begins

the

transformation.

It's a very negative word. At least, usually. It does have

positive connotations as well:

"It's time for a change," says a new leader to a

crowd sick of the way their old leader mislead them.

"Nothing ever changes," someone says sadly. (This

is a negative statement, but change has positive

connotations.)

The rule here is easy enough to discern—change has a

positive connotations in dissatisfactory circumstances and a

negative connotations when people are content (or content

enough) with the way things are.

So when someone tries to change your mind, you reject

their attempts. Why? Because you're a human being who

secretly believes that you are perfect, in spite of your character

flaws, of which you are mostly aware. You are content enough

in your mind to feel as though it is untouchable and sacred—

something to be preserved at all costs.

Why do you think the first step any cult leader or

government agent takes to brainwash someone involves

eroding their sense of identity and smashing their self-esteem

to pieces?

Any human being functioning normally is not very

susceptible to the overt suggestions of his fellow man, despite

our instinct to take cues from the pack and go along with

whatever the general consensus is. In fact, ironically enough,

our built in conformity streak is a big part of what makes us

so reluctant to go along with people. This is because we are

“wired” to distrust the outsider and accept only the ideas of

those within our social group. In this age of extremely limited

social interaction, this mechanism, once crucial to the

evolutionary process, has begun to destroy us.

People are cynics who distrust everything. In the 1950’s

when the government and corporations churned out endless

propaganda, the masses, for the most part, believed every

word of it. Today, people distrust everything they hear,

everything they read, everything they see, everyone they meet.

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