The Anti-Desiderata

Go wrathfully among the poised and chaste, and recall what mindless stimulation may be had in noise. As far as possible without surrender, alienate as many timorous little bastards as you can. Prevaricate at volume with Byzantine obfuscation, and listen not to others smarmy bilge: the dull and the ignorant; say yo, whazzup with them? Avoid passive-aggressive personalities as you would the plague; it’s bad enough that they are deadly boring; they’re also a royal pain in the ass.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vexed and bitter. Some news flash there! For always will these bungling fools be lesser persons than yourself, and nine out of ten better paid to boot.

Enjoy your achievement, for what’s that bloody worth, and plan to be reassigned now any day. Keep interested in your career, and don’t neglect to eat some Humble Pie; it is a real nutritious snack say recent articles in Fortune and Time.

Exercise acute paranoia in your business affairs; the world is full of high-strung corporate psychopaths. But let this not blind you to what fate truly holds in store: demented zombie fascist ghouls whose vaunted ideals conceal bloodthirsty plans for jingoistic genocide.

Be yourself, but do not risk detection. Never tell the motherfuckers what you really think. Neither be clinical about love, especially not with that Sweet 16 on Friendster, or your ass is grass.

Eschew the questionable counsel of decrepit hosers, nor willingly follow their drooling downward stagger into the depths of sadly premature senility.

Nurture unhinged hallucinations that everything’s A-OK to shield yourself from suddenly wising up. Neither be distressed you are imaginary things: the recurring fear that fatigue and loneliness are merely prologue. Beyond a wholesome discipline, slip fully into voluntary mental bondage.

You are an orphan of the universe, no less than the trees and the ozone layer and the buffalo. You are cattle. You are chattel. You are in the way.

Whether it is clear to you or not, the economy is growing as it doubly should. Therefore, say your prayers, whatever you hope to gain by that, and whatever your deluded aspirations may have deemed, finding you are a certain loser in the bedlam of life’s lottery, now kiss your sorry ass goodbye.

And yet for all its rampant spam, its government-sanctioned drug cartels and tranquilizer-stifled scream, it’s just too beautiful a deal. Double down, cheer up, dream on: as if you might ever get to cop a slice.

Starve to be happy.

I was in a good mood this Sunday and typed this from Christopher Locke's The Bombast Transcripts. I made two very minor corrections. Other than that, it's pure Locke.