From the creators of Stanko & Tibor, we bring you a formal good riddance to the annus rottenus and give proper welcome to the new year. A year of transition, promise, and most likely questionable fashion choices.
You may notice I used the plural when I said “creators” — it’s partially because I want to make this online rag sound much bigger than it is. And partially because all the time I have spent alone and indoors has made me develop multiple personalities just so I could hold a conversation with someone other than myself. And maybe finally win that argument about which kind of danish is superior.
May your vaccination be painless and come quickly. And while you’re at it, have a few shots of booze or whatever makes you happy until it’s your turn.
So, despite the COVID pandemic, fear, isolation, intimidation, excessive body hair and an ever expanding belly filled with sugary baked goods made with these two frequently washed hands, I have decided to weigh in on the subject of democracy, and the impending election.
It should be noted for posterity’s sake that nary a one of my fervent readers, followers and/or groupies has asked me to comment on power-sharing agreement via the ballot box. However, it was high time I made a statement of some kind on what democracy is, was and always will be. A scam.
Wait, don’t leave yet. I’m not advocating for another form of government. I like democracy. Let me explain.
Essentially, the word scam derives from the past tense of the verb ‘to scum’, which in ancient Babylonian poker games referred to the greasy sweat wiped from the brow of the guy who went all in holding a measly pair of 3s but who was already in debt two sheep to Udug and his shady, semi-employed brother-in-law Mummu. Funny, neither Udug nor Mummu ever had a clear source of steady income, but they always showed up at the weekly ritual animal sacrifice with attractive sheep and goats. Something was fishy even back then. But I digress.
Democracy, The Crap-shoot
So why is democracy a scam? Because it’s like poker, it’s a crap-shoot. People bluff all the time in poker, they’re trying to convince you they’re holding the winning hand and you either fold or they clean up and take your money.
Democracy and poker have a lot of similarities. Both are rigged (at least that’s what Trump says. He’s not a compulsive liar, I swear.). Both involve people who really don’t want to hold down a day job. Both have hors d’oeuvres served at meetings and gatherings. Both require an implicit belief that although you’re getting screwed right now, next time will be better.
Democracy, also like poker, requires you to gather information to make an informed decision even if that information is sketchy or difficult to find. It’s about gathering bits of data and coalescing them into some kind of educated guess, assumption or dare I say, a fact! Taking those guesses, assumptions and facts, you place a wager. Sometimes you actually win, like in Chile where they recently voted overwhelmingly to rewrite the constitution. That one worked.
We’ve Moved to ButtFaceBook
However, in our neck of the woods, we have turned to the digital sewer of the Internet, a.k.a. Facebook, to inform ourselves.
It should be argued that Facebook is populated buy a vast number of what Arthur Schopenhauer referred to in his famous work I Hate Life and Tying My Shoelaces Every Morning as “buttfaces”. A buttface for the non-scholarly out there is a stupid and/or stubborn person, usually one who drinks cheap beer and feels it necessary to share his or her stupid opinion when no one ever asked.
By my sleep-deprived reasoning, Facebook should be renamed to ButtFaceBook, or BFB for the brevity-obsessed. Because only a buttface would believe QAnon conspiracies and other outrageous crap peddled on that pitiful platform. Only a buttface would say “The Russians could never sucker me in with some lame-brained story. Now where are my guns at again? Right, I keep them in the bathroom and the kids’ rooms.”
ButtFaceBook. I like it.
Maybe we should decide our elections on that platform instead of using democracy, that time-worn scam machine.
I need some chocolate.
Lovingly isolated and losing his mind,
Marduk (look it up) Druker
My daughter just read me a recent Twitter quote regarding the recent manned flight to space: “Congrats to the astronauts who just left earth. Good choice.”
At least they have escaped the misery of COVID, the anti-Semitic conspiracy theorists, the riots resulting from the murder of yet another unarmed black person, and the rantings of Führer Trump for a while. What’s more, they did it without resorting what millions of Americans have done to cope with this misery — drinking vats of alcohol. To no one’s surprise, however, United Kingdom sales spiked to even higher liver-damaging levels. Just another excuse to get hammered.
Space Station Therapy
Let’s go back to those astronauts for a minute. Think about how desperate you have to be to risk life and limb, climbing aboard what is essentially a computer-guided roman candle to go live in a gravity-deprived, sterile, smelly space station where fresh baked chocolate danishes and artery-clogging burgers are difficult to come by unless you have good connections.
They could have easily drank themselves into a stupor to cope with this COVID conundrum. It’s way cheaper and less stressful than all of that astronaut training. Furthermore, drinking yourself stupid means you wouldn’t have to deal with that Elon Musk fellow crowing about his silly rocket that he claims is “so totally awesome.” I could build one of those rocket thingies with some duct tape, a ball of twine, a fork, peanut butter, pop-sickle sticks and paint thinner.
But no, they chose flight over fight. Actually, over drinking. Idiots.
So if I am left with a choice between going into space, where the WiFi signal is crap and the Netflix subscription hasn’t been renewed, and staying here and drinking myself into oblivion like most of the world seems to be doing, I may be at a loss.
Don’t give me that “read a book” line either. Trump doesn’t read them. No, wait. He can’t read. And he’s a PUTZ. No, I meant POTUS.
But still, given my tremendous lack of knowledge about everything from aeronautics to zoology, I’d have to read like a zillion books, and that would mean spending all day and night at the library where the WiFi signal is crap.
Also, if one of you says “try meditation” again, I’ll tell you what I told that mouthy jerk of a police officer — drinking booze is a way easier method to relax and clear one’s mind. Or at least subdue it.
Clearly I am lacking the mental faculties needed to make a decision on how best to handle this situation. So I will do what I always do when confronted with questions of great importance and moral significance. I’ll watch Bugs Bunny and the Simpsons.