For My Son

I am not a young man. I am not yet an ancient man but I am definitely not a young man. Most of the things that affect young people today will not apply to me. I probably have enough money to live comfortably for whatever time I have left. And, truth be told I haven't much business left to transact and even less reason to hang around.

I don't even have a son. I had a daughter. But she left early, along with any reason I have for still being here. Don't worry or pity. I'm not anywhere near as miserable as I deserve to be and I lack even a tenth of the balls it takes to arrange my own departure.

But today was an interesting day. Even for me. Someone whose utter disinterest has risen to near maximum possible levels.

Donald Trump was convicted today by a jury. No, not a jury of his peers because no such thing exists. You can't possibly find 12 people who are “peers” of Donald Trump. Because he is so unique in as much that he is practically his own species. We are considered homo sapiens. What could we call him? Homo shameless? Homo remorseless? Homo sociopathic? The guy is simply the biggest, most consistently horrible human being imaginable. He cares about nothing but himself in any and all situations, without exception and with total disregard to any harm caused to others. Even his most loyal family and friends. This is a man who I would believe would choose painful death for millions of people over even 3 seconds of the most mild discomfort for himself. And I don't think this statement is hyperbolic. I have been unable to find even the most remote traces of any kind of remotely decent human being. To put it simply, he is the ultimate dick.

It is his greatest strength. His successes, if you want to call them that, are all owed to being absolutely incapable of any feelings of remorse. Or shame. I believe it is the reason he is so bizarrely embraced by so many. I think there are 40 or 50 million Americans who desperately wish they could be as completely horrible as he is. Well, it's as good a reason as any and it's not even what I want to talk about.

It just got me thinking about what I would tell my imaginary son were I suddenly an imaginary 40-year-old father of a 15 year old son. When I actually was 40, I probably would have tried to instill moral and honest conduct in my young son. But now I don't think I could do that in good conscience. If I had 10 or 20 million dollars to leave to him I might try to get him to be a good, honorable and honest man. But without a massive head start, he stands no chance. Zero.

“Work hard son” I might say. “Find something you love and get good at it” I might advise. “Play by the rules.” But without a vast inheritance, that would lead him to a life of indentured servitude, poverty, struggle and humiliation. All at the hands of a world that no longer values any of those qualities.

When a shitbag starter home costs 700,000 dollars what hope does a non-rich person have of survival without sucking hundreds of corporate cocks? I would be sentencing my offspring to a hellscape of disappointment and shame, even in himself. Because he would consider himself a failure and hate himself. Because he would have almost no chance of survival as a non dick. He is much better off now to know how to lie, cheat, scam and steal with the best of them. Or he will be working three jobs to barely scrape by. Always 3 missed paychecks or one illness away from homelessness. Which is how 80 percent of Americans live right now. So I better teach him some dirty tricks of his own. Or he will be somebody's bitch his entire life.

Who is buying all of these 2, 3, and 4 million dollar homes all over the fucken country? Fry cooks? There is almost no way to succeed in America honestly. And fuckcunt Trump is the first to make that clear to every yeehaw from Secaucus to Wyoming.

There are three options. Fall from a rich vagina, steal, or win the lottery. Almost no one else succeeds, they suffer.

And if I teach my fictional son to be a good man he will be a good poor man. A good bitch. A good nobody. A good slave.

If I do a good enough job of teaching him to scam, as my father did for me, he will have a chance at a decent life. He will have no soul or self-respect. But he might have a wife under 300 pounds and a relatively new Lexus. Here's the truth: both options suck.

So I'm glad you don't exist little man. Because you have no chance.  You will either be a poor nobody bitch. Or a rich, self-hating thief. Better you don't exist in the world run by Homo Shameless. Remain in oblivion. I hope I grow a set of balls and see you soon.

Fuck it.