Ode to Capitalism

Hope

First off, any hint of a violent revolution happening in the near future is virtually undetectable by any of the six or seven basic senses—depending how lucid on acid you are. And although explosions, blood and scars are probably not the most alluring remedies for the defective hierarchical class system we’re effectively pinned beneath, they would undoubtedly help to revitalize the pulse of our flaccid culture. Think about it. 

Reverse

Really though, I love the sensation of having my nuts in a capitalist vice while pin-dick fascists crank on the bar. I’m certainly not a communist if that’s what you’re thinking. The altruistic sentiment of communist philosophy is, in essence, the political equivalent to a vegan diet and dry sex, neither of which I subscribe to. Lets burn this place to the ground and stoke the flames with absolute consumption. The irony of receiving an Adbusters magazine on Christmas morning reflects a truly functional economy: hardcore leftist ideals are more hilarious than a Tickle-Me-Elmo any day.

Crisis

How uncomfortable can we really be with the corporate establishments that have befallen us? After all, I drink every night of the week and buy cheap dope from illegitimate drug dealers. And if I’m really in a jam, I just drive down to the Cecil and watch the talented ladies with silicone boobs and hair-extensions shake their junk all over my face and lap for five dollars or less. Who needs Mcdonald’s drive-thru to satisfy impulsive desires? Alas, it feels good to lament this perverse love affair I have with substance abuse, hookers and cheeseburgers.

Pain

Perhaps it’s unresolved esteem issues which drive me to say such disparaging things about the inherent benefits of inequality and exploitation. Or perhaps I’m just not getting enough of that elusive capitalist ass I’ve heard so much about on the T.V and Internet.

Retribution

A team of researchers from the University of Victoria is suggesting that the B.C Government jack-up liquor prices in order to curb rampant alcoholism in Vancouver. It’s notions like this that drive the already unbalanced population of middle-class piss-tanks to hit the bottle even harder. We shouldn’t even dignify the idea with a response—unless of course it involves dynamite and gatling guns. So all I’m going to say is “fuck that shit!” Those half-baked university students should be strung up by their nose-hairs and beaten like Teletubby piñatas at a Mexican birthday party.

Truth

It seems as if there’s a tinge of discontent in the collective mind over the way this over-populated planet's being run: we should cultivate it. Fact is, we never had a choice. And even if we did, I’d still pick C. So as we hide away like cultural refugees, brooding in capitalist fall-out and target marketing, take solace in knowing that you’re not the only one who’s profoundly confused. Don’t cry: it’s not your fault—psyche. It’s totally your fault. Drop the iPhone, buy a gun, loot a Wal-Mart and raise some chickens.

With that, we should all join hands and sing Kumbaya as the lunatics with power and money pick our pockets and adjust their comb-overs. Fuck!