Dammit. Why isn't the news ever filled with anything good? The sense of dread I had when I heard that the asteroid wasn't gonna hit us was what greeted me in the morning. It wasn't the coffee or the 17k emails from Disobey groupies, but instead a Wired news report saying that it was gonna miss us.

Dammit, dammit, son of a bitch. I guess the funny thing is that the world wants to die, the world wants to go as quick as possible. If it's not one thing, it's gonna be another fabricated event that we can happily dance around for a couple of media months. How long has it been predicted that we were all gonna die in the year 2000? Quite a while actually... yet strangely, the same thing was believed in the year 999... I guess that really didn't work out as planned, though.

So, the year 2000 gets a little old. Sure, we had scares of a war (only a year late, according to Nostradamus), but that was superceded by our finger wagging president. Then the scientists made a simple calculating error and said we were all gonna die.

Pretty damn funny to know people who already began to prepare for their death. The damn rock was 30 years away and I already knew people who were yelling out that they didn't want to die, and that it was so unfair. I don't know if I started laughing, I generally don't monitor emotions very well.

It's these type of people that make me wonder why they haven't committed suicide yet. Those so afraid of death, so willing to go that their every living moment is centered around when and how they are going to die.

I won't lie to you. When I heard the asteroid was gonna come and kick our asses, I felt a little disappointed that I was going to die before I wanted to. I was upset that everything I worked for was going to be demolished by a big spacial wrecking ball. I wanted to go out and buy a Louisville slugger just so I could have a whack at it before it slid home.

Then I shrugged my shoulders. I live for now, and so should you. Why? Because you're just gonna tear yourself apart and become one of those whiny people who sit in a corner and rock back and forth, trying to generate a force field to keep the world out. If you only concentrate on what will happen when you go, you will die alone. People will get sick of the fact that all you do is talk about leaving them. No one wants to meet someone and be greeted by "Six months, thirteen days, we're all gonna die. I'm Bill." It's just not kosher.

And now, the asteroid isn't come and kill us all in some replay of the Dinosaur Clearance Sale. What are all the naysayers going to do now besides turn to the great two zero zero zero? Which, when you think about it, is a 50/50 chance, anyways. The second millennium could be in 2000, and it could be in 2001. This isn't some error in date keeping folks, like some people explain, but rather a chance for us to say "Oh, [insert uppity bitch laugh here], it must be coming NEXT year, [repeat aforementioned laugh]!"

It's not like anything will happen naturally anyways. Even if something did happen, we would never notice it because we will be too caught up in making what we think should happen true. People cry of massive wars and riots, and destruction. Well, sure, if everyone is going to get drunk to herald in their death, it's not that far of a jump to think that they will create what they expect.

So what if the world does end in 2000 (or 2001)? Let's assume it does for a second... does it change anything? Not really. We already know that we're going to die eventually, that's a stark inevitability of life. Why should it matter that we die in 2 years instead of 40 years? Most of us are worthless anyways, sludging through life, grabbing porn off the internet, mindlessly pushing papers, or sitting in school being taught other people's thoughts instead of being told to think ourselves. Most people have nothing going for them and rioting and causing a ruckus isn't gonna win them a medal anytime soon.

Wishing for death... a desire shared by many, heralded by most... Bo Peep would be proud.

I stare up into the ceiling of my poorly lit room. In a far off distance, I am listening to the wise commentary on panda bears copulating in mass media reproduction. I have obligations to fill, dazed and bored, I stop my learned skill, the making of chainmail, and think about the computer screen slowly burning in across my room, reminding me of this weekend. I ran into good ol' Morbus Iff at one of the Little Vegas's many reincarnations, Cafe Eclipse. I happen to forget the fact that I told him that I would spend most of my forgotten life pounding away at the keyboard for no real purpose than to opiate the masses through a barrage of poorly arranged barrage of bits. Don't get me wrong, I fully love to submit to a literary cause, however, I'm a lazy SOB, looking into a soybean future. I should probably admit that most of this was written while George Carlin's "Back in Town" is playing on my very own home stereo.

Anyways, Morbus ol' chum was sitting back, after getting out of work, sitting in the smoke filled chambers of the Eclipse Cafe, and we were talking about how my corporate-controlled email box won't allow me to send my works to Devil Shat. And people say that government is the number one threat to freedom. I figure it is the least I can do for him, since he has aided me in several of my past digital projects. So, now, here I am, back in my room, with obligations to fill and time being the only thing moving in a tangible direction. My walls are papered with various things relating to music and my personal life, my floor is cluttered with an odd display of college paperwork, dirty clothes, computer parts, audio equipment, and, uh, some stuff I really can't identify. With obligations to fill. Sipping on a 2 liter bottle of Surge, praying for a snow day, so I can have a break from "High" school. Its amazing how spiritually possessed people become when it relates to the material world. Fuck enlightenment, I just want to get some, and, of course, visions of discordianism are dancing in my head. Leaning forward, I turn on the radio.

Time lapses. I haven't, surprisingly. I don't even remember what I missed. I don't think I ever do. But, though the mist of my mind, I keep arriving at the same thoughts of displaced social situations I currently find myself in. The jagged edge cuts quite deeply. My fingers are feeling a little less sore, from the chain mail work. Time to bludgeon myself with an alternate lethargic activity. School doesn't start for another 10 hours or so. Damn it all. And on top of it, I'm sitting here, whining about how no one knows how I feel, and how no one can relate to the life I lead. How everyone hates me, or thinks I'm socially unfit to exist in society. Just like every other fucking teenager who has some clue. With obligations to fill. They can wait another day. I'm not going anywhere. Or so I'm told. The revolution is on, and its going on inside my head. I'll show them all, just like everyone else. Fuck those obligations. All of them. Don't you just love being generic?

Here begins the first installment of the trilogy that will change YOUR life.

The first step to saving the world would have to be GET RID OF THE MALL PEOPLE. Who are mall people? For the most part, they are little teenage punks who only like to wander around in hopes that they'll finally get the chutzpah to talk to the loser tripping over his feet in front of you. If they can't do that, then they kill you with the mind numbing chatter of why Cindy dumped Johnny.

Once upon a time, I saw this great movie. It was the most recent Star Trek and punks (mall people) today remind me so much of the Borg. How? THEY ALL SHARE THE SAME MOTHER FUCKING BRAIN!!! It's sad, really. Sex, music, and money. It's not much different from being a man in his midlife crisis but it is worse. Mall people make a point of putting it in your face.

Parental action committees like to blame MTV for images of sex and violence and the effects they have on children. Utter bullshit. I blame mall people. I only blame them because the library people are too busy thinking about higher education. Working people worry about money, but there's always a goal involved. No matter what the goal is, it's good to have one because there's always a moral to be learned.

If you take something from this piece, take this: mall people do not change. They never change. They may not always go to the mall, but there will always be that same sort of sadass clique of people who justify suicide. I hate these people. I'm not saying you should. What the hell am I saying? Hate these people with a passion. Keep your children away from these types and let them hang out with biker gangs instead.

At least when you have to go out and find them, you won't have to go looking for them at a mall.

98-Apr-14
pecleary@earthlink.net

Not everybody grabs porn off the internet. Dont make assumptions calling everybody worthless.

This was the exact line:

Most of us are worthless anyways, sludging through life, grabbing porn off the internet, mindlessly pushing papers, or sitting in school being taught other people's thoughts instead of being told to think ourselves.

Notice the "most of" which means "non-exclusive". I did not call everyone porngrubbers, merely most of them. Think of it this way: were I to classify EVERYONE on the internet as being a porngrubber, than I myself would be one too. That is not the case.

And it wasn't an assumption. It was an opinion. Big difference.

If I was one of those scientists, I wouldn't of said there was a miscalculation. That way, all the stupid people would commit suicide and population would be under better control. Besides, it would make for a good laugh, wouldn't it? There's no reason to worry about dying, indeed I don't think that death is the end-all close-all. Time and the universe are infinite, so after I die I can just wait for some stupid aliens to put me back together like a lego set. :)

I agree!! With the end of the world thing, that is. What's the point of living when you spend everyday worrying about when you're gonna die? Not much if ya ask me. I remember hearing something about the asteroid coming towards Earth, but didn't pay much attention to it becuz...well...what the hell was I gonna do about it? It's not like I could go up to the asteroid and beg for my life, pathetic as it is. Or even beat the asteroid into submission, as enjoyable as that would be. So I, like so many others, shrugged my shoulders and went on about my day. Live for today and ya can't go wrong.

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Devil Shat Twenty Four was released on 04/09/98. Last updated: 08/01/98.