That's why our Populist Elitist Party has seen its membership skyrocket in recent years, while other parties wither away.

The Human Nature's A Piecea Crap Party, for example, now commands less that 11% of the electorate -- maybe because, whenever they put forward their platform of "Just tell me one good thing about human nature!" -- nobody can.1

OUR platform, "You are all better than everyone else", on the other hand, meshes perfectly with everybody's thinking.

In fact, our only possible competition in the upcoming election is the Really, It's No Great Loss of Freedom To Not Be Able To Call Your Government a Lying Buncha Scumbags Party.

People are mostly attracted to this party because of its impeccable logic which shows conclusively how it's really no great loss of freedom to not be able to call your government a lying buncha scumbags because everybody already KNOWS what a lying buncha scumbags their government really is, so why bother telling them one more time.

But then, with only a week to go before the voters go to the polls, the whole campaign has been turned upside down. The Human Nature's a Piecea Crap Party has dropped the word "Human" from its name and added a "Just" and so become the Nature's Just a Piecea Crap Party.

Suddenly, people are taking notice. No one had ever considered that, hey, maybe Nature really IS just a piecea crap, before. So maybe it IS all Nature's fault, and being human has nothing to do with it. And even animals, plants, and microorganisms are just as not guilty.

But, meanwhile, no one is confronting the REAL issue of this election: the fact that the ONLY power we have left is the power to restrict and destroy each other's imagination -- and that even this power is disappearing -- a trite ironic consequence of its own success.

This fact is so much in everybody's face, that nobody seems to notice it. And so nobody's willing to go out and fight and die for its opposite anymore -- though pretty much everybody is still willing to go out and fight and die for pornography.3,4

Our platform, on the other hand, proposes, euphemistically of course, that the only way to deal with this issue, aside from silence, is through the power of passive destruction. Nothing, after all, can withstand the force of passivity -- not even the exterminating power of love.

All the heroes of man, for example, the current ones and the historical ones, have all been taken down, one by one, and destroyed by this force -- not maliciously, gratuitously, or with ad hominems -- but with affection, logic and honest ridicule.

And as they were reduced to their fundamentals, each hero made the same fucking confession right before the end, when they had nothing but their core semantic primitives left to use for constructing sentences.5

They admitted that what they'd been passing off for wisdom was most often just ugly bitter hateful cynicism -- which just happened to turn out to be right most of the time.

For this, they were sentenced to manic-depression -- but not just manic-depression in the dimension of mood, but manic-depression across all dimensions of being.

Like manic-depression of understanding -- where, for an hour, everything bristles with meaning, everything is profound. And any random passage from any random book seems to open up vast fields of insight.

But then, for the next hour, every word, every utterance, ever image reeks of infinite banality if not utter fucking bogus bullshit. Books are dumpsters of yapping egos, shopworn polemics, transparent over-generalizations, and only exist because some slimeball thought he could make a buck off it.

Or the manic-depression of achievement -- where each day rivals the preceding one in, first, what an utter stupid waste it is, and then, moments later, in how there just aren't enough fucking hours in it!

But in the manic-depression of narrative, there is no mania.

Heroes exist only to bring bogus comfort to losers, and to provide just one more number in the ".....Are For Losers" series of books, tapes, films, dramas, dreams, food and clothing.

Notes

1. Other than the one about how, every so often, out of guilt, human nature makes a lame pretense of trying to clean up a tiny fraction of its massive fucking up of everything -- called charity2 -- and then celebrates its righteousness in a ceremony of fucking itself -- called love."

2. Which, however, rather than cleaning up anything, ALWAYS makes everything worse -- but who's counting?

3. Esp. on cel phones, in packed elevators.

4. And also the right to the diametric opposite of pornography -- though no one wants to talk about this anywhere above the level of a footnote.

5. And, therefore, only loss, itself, left to lose.6

6. Along, of course, with possession, life, death, pain, pleasure and all the other semantic primitives, like reward and punishment.

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