Perhaps there is some personal satisfaction in it ... er ... okay, fine, yeah, I (ahem!) take it out on people (cough!) from time to time (wheeze!) ... but ... okay, so there's like this old principle of turning bullshit into a teachable moment, or whatever―part of the old "attack the idea, not the person" motto that never really works out since many people often consider accurate descriptions of their behavior some manner of personal attack―but there's also this old song by a Seattle band called Chemistry Set about how "baring your soul is the in thing to do, it's fun and it's easy for the empty-headed fool", and that actually made sense at a time when men were supposed to be having this weird masculine psychological revolution, spending weekends learning to cry and be sensitive together, and all that sort of shit, except it's not really about that but, rather, empty-headed contrarianism is a similarly easy and foolish identity endeavor as well as seeming rather quite the in thing to do. Okay, I think it was Chemistry Set. Holy shit, that album is hard to find. I know where there's a vinyl copy, but ... damn. (I did, however, find "Blind Caroline"↱, an awesome little song.) At any rate, like any other political issue, the immediate attempt to withdraw to more generic, template-driven frequently asked helpful questions (FAH-Q) territory in order to make a stand more in accord with one's imagined heroic narrative seems obvious, but it's also a mysteriously credible ruse in society of late; perhaps people really have been letting the (ahem!) comment threads and (cough!) bulletin boards (wheeze!) define logic for them. I mean, sure, great, Trump again, you know? But, still, yeah, how did we get to that? Well, he's the candidate of the internet trolls. I used to have this weird joke about how conservative advocates in the discourse were sounding more and more like their internet echoes, and, no, it's not that I'm prophetic, or anything, as it wasn't a particularly difficult observation, but fuck all, mate, these days it seems damn near ubiquitous, and God help you should you catch one of our network news broadcasts because it might actually make you wonder if you really do need to go around pointing things out like I've kind of been picking on some people of late. It can get to you if you let it. There are days I'm going through the motions, pointing someone back to their (is there a good flatulence onomatopoeia to fill this space?) error, thinking to myself something or other about how I keep thinking I shouldn't have to make this obvious point. But, you know, something about teachable moments. Every once in a while we need to leave short, easy to digest nuggets for future readers to comprehend. And, you know, I mean, fuck, isn't that just kind of grim? It's one thing to get all complicated in order to say something simple, like, you know, it's not like humanity will run extinct without me, but I do wonder how long after me the species has because quite frankly we just don't seem particularly interested in our posterity. The alien anthropologists ... I might dispute with Waters, now; the alien anthropologists won't be logging the only explanation left, but, rather, the one emerging in what records we leave. Unfortunately, the mystic I keep on retainer to read cards and scry cyrstals tells me there will still be some confusion because the last period of our existence will create no paper records or other hardcopies, and by virtue of being the simplest of all our electronic records, a database of North Korea's twenty-eight websites will be all that remains of the information superhighway by which we typed and tubed the last generations of our living history. Then again, that wasn't a prophecy of the cards or crystals. That was bong hits and beer over pizza.