Saturday, October 3, 2020

The One Where Chandler Had His Say

So it's about ten to four this morning and I'm out watching the streets for a bit, walking the alley with my flashlight and pepper spray. I watch a youngish homeless guy walking through the public complex across the street, see him duck into the bushes for a minute only to re-emerge naked and carrying a bundle of new clothes I assume he had stashed away. I see them over there all the time, especially on the weekends when there's no security guard driving around. Watched the guy wander off like a twitchy squirrel and I'm thinking to myself that this is a human being going feral. Whatever conditioning he managed to internalize before he hit the skids is starting to flake off and he's becoming a lot like the urban wildlife with which he shares the midnight streets.

That's the danger of too much isolation sometimes. Of course the legal and illegal consciousness bending chemicals don't help, but you know, not every addict breaks down that far. I've known a slew of them, had them as friends, skirted their world a time or two, but the ones who go real bad are usually the ones who cut themselves off and become mired in the more fundamental, primitive impulses that creep to the surface as civilization's imposed veneer erodes through bad maintenance and general upkeep. Their thought processes and conversations take on the shape of the wounded badger cowering in his log den and sneering at passers-by. Their sense of self is shrunken down on them like a second skin one size too small, no room for inclusivity or even sympathy, really, although such things can be feigned in a pinch for exploitation purposes.

I believe there's a good case to be made regarding what we Americans think of as 'rugged individualism', and any society worth its salt does itself harm by shutting off voices that don't conform to the consensus opinion. However, in rejecting the status quo we sometimes gravitate toward toxic personalities, grandiose big mouths who trash everyone else in order to bring the focus upon themselves. The really bad ones even do things like make up their own physics ad hoc, waving them under the noses of serious people who have opened up the modern world for us, like the kid offering up a handful of his own shit in a cooking contest with all the most famous chefs in the world. Followed by a childish shitfit, naturally.

It's good to remind ourselves once in a while that without the molding of some kind of society, we are just feral animals, maybe a bit better able to count sticks? *shrug* In the context of our illusory sense of self it IS tempting to climb egomaniacal mountain and plant our flag up there. But, yeesh! Some people never leave!

REMINDER: Thin air can sometimes cause brain damage. Come down and read a book once in a while. Consider the unabomber. :)

Plus, Joey believes in spooks and won't admit it to his girlfriends. I mean, yes, he DID admit it, but his subs jumped on that grenade REAL quick. "It wasn't a real explosion. It was a metaphor! A METAPHOR!" And Joey didn't care to correct them as his truth ran from their entrails onto the clean sofa that MONICA HAD JUST SHAMPOOED, DAMMIT! Oh, and Phoebe snort-chuckled. Just like me. Oh yeah, and Rachel was in the other room playing with Ross's monkey. Phew, closure!

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