Sitting here at the laptop in these pre-dawn hours is similar to sitting in a movie theater watching coming attractions without any sense of time, place or who. Delusion appears the main artery in which people in the nowadays are living their clueless, crazed existence amongst signs of insanity.
Yesterday, a woman purchased a lottery ticket at the liquor store I manage, and in a swelling-flood of bullshit, she blubbered a request of would I “kiss the tickets” for luck. If the dumb-ass lady’s young daughter wasn’t standing next to her, I’d told her to kiss my fat, fucking ass. Instead, I just laughed, shook my head and tried not to blow my mind all over the counter.
Modern life is beyond strange.
(Illustration: Salvador Dali, ‘Alice’s Evidence,’ found here).
Not much to write about, too, if you want to include the continuing saga of a missing passenger jet and the Russian chess moves in the Crimea, and various other pieces of idiocy.
Emily Dickinson described it already many, many years ago via Poem Number 435:
Much Madness is divinest Sense
To a discerning Eye
Much Sense — the starkest Madness
‘Tis the Majority
In this, as All, prevail
Assent — and you are sane
Demur — you’re straightway dangerous
And handled with a Chain
And George Carlin concluded: “Why do people who know the least know it the loudest?”
Friday come forth!
Much madness in store!