And again and again, and the only part of life that almost everyone agrees upon is that it feels nice to have someone else pay attention to your genitals.
This life is full of reasons and bargains and sneaky, back-room deals, the rich stay rich and the poor are here to be used. This political stance is good, that one is evil. Or, wait… Was it this one? What is evil?
Relationships are not easy. Between two people, a thousand, 330 million, 7 billion. It’s difficult for us to be good to each other, because we all focus on what is good for us, first. As though we are animals. As though all of our philosophy and science and psychology don’t actually mean anything. As though we truly don’t care for anything past full bellies and orgasms.
What a strange concept, the idea that we must participate in our own subjugation. Vote for your masters, vote against the masters you don’t like, but understand that you must have a master, and that is not up for a vote. You can abstain from the vote if you like, but remaining silent only makes you easier to exploit.
Freedom isn’t free… Because freedom isn’t real. It doesn’t exist. There’s no frontier left. There’s no place to get away from those bastards… er… I mean masters. There is nothing to believe in, beyond a full belly and an orgasm.
Why does it feel like selling my soul?