Declaration

The day has come. I hereby denounce society and all of its rules, laws and truisms: no longer will I play along. “Ah,” I can hear you say… “Ah,” invariably with a smug, tired smile on your greasy, groomed face, happy with yourself for having a quick fix & easy reply to this and not having to do some actual thinking… “Ah… you know that, if you denounce society, you have to give it all up, don’t you? It’s only logical. If you don’t concede your moral sovereignty to society in full, you can’t have any of it. You have to give up subsidies and benefits too, splint your own broken bones…” Oh yeah? Well… nibble my knob, I say! Perhaps you didn’t understood what I was saying. I said I denounced society in full! If I stopped using its benefits, I would succumb to its rules, the unsanitary ‘Put-out-or-get-out’ rule, whereas I said I don’t play along anymore… you dig?

I have capitulated for many years. I have been a good soldier, I have worked and loved and paid my taxes, I have been kind to my masters, old people, children and whales, I have written thick books and poems to loved ones, I have smiled at birthday parties, I have pointed out the flaws of our ways and given worthy alternatives, I have presented new ethics and a poetica… and nothing has made the slightest difference to you. Those loved ones, they never wrote me back and spat on my paintings; society has rejected, betrayed, scammed and denied me, and it has made a mockery of its own farce of a delusional state. It chose to be blind and deaf to its own reported wisdom. It is mentally mortally ill and I can no longer see it ever making a recovery. Beliefs I once held high, are now shooting through the perpetual twilight of my velvety room making a fart-like noise, a zooming deflating balloon in a cartoon.

Despite all your big shiny words about honour and grace, virtue and congeniality, you remain a bunch of aggressive, moronic, hypocrite materialists, too dumb to see through the fog of your own hallucinatory ideas about life, obsessed with your phoney social status and the creation of offspring as if it’s a blessed event… Yes, your ‘bundles o’ joy’, a-smiling on pink lace cushions, shot in soft focus photos, to be send to grannies and cronies, and framed above the couch as hunting trophies… Yeah, those shrieking, fecal-aromatic larvae of yours, they will only fill the shelves with the next generation of dictators, war mongers, golfers and advertisers… to form the perpetuum mobile of the rat-filled trenches of the next Great War.

When Man gives birth, it gives birth to misery, cruelty and wretchedness. Spreading horror over the land. You’re selling TVs to the blind and yet you dear to call me a cynic and deluded for not buying into your mass fantasies, fables and nonsense. And what you don’t understand, you like to call God. Thunder and pestilence, beauty and death. Oh Sinners beware! Faith! There’s a party tonight at the Eclipse Inn… don’t forget to tip your waitress.

So… all bets are off. I will live by my own rules from now on. I will ruthlessly follow my own ideas of right & wrong, religion and crime, and keep score myself. I will lie, cheat, steal, plunder, pillage and rape. I will jaywalk, double dip my chip and stare at your cleavage for an unseemly long time. Henceforth, I consider myself relieved from all my duties. You have had your chance to keep me on board and failed on all levels. In fact: you still have that chance, but I place the ball in your court now. All you have to do is reply to my letters, stop being arseholes and give me a worthy place in your midst. Just one of you… just one of you, to say something nice but once, to me or any other human being… I’d like to see that day. Then, I will gladly play along again… I will listen to your mindless babble, about paella, poodles, street art and yoga. I will skilfully feign an interest and go coochie-coochie-goo over your monstrous prams and gnome-filled gardens.

Thusly spoke Mehujael.