Double Flee A

I'd like to dedicate a special something to all the people out there who go to work every day and get the shaft.
If they're anything like me, they have serious problems justifying the trade of time from their lives, and thereby their lives themselves, for money, and not much of it at that. This incongruous state of affairs is so insane and so profligate that the only escape for me and I suspect many, many others is contemplating suicide all day. I have thus far committed suicide in my imagination many times over this morning in a variety of ways, including overdoses of various combinations of narcotics, hanging by intravenous tubing, bleeding to death down a tidy hole designed just for that purpose, and so on and so on. This automatically creates an interesting paradox, but only interesting as long as it takes to think about it and be finished, in other words, seconds, before you realize you're at work, miserable miserable miserable. That paradox is this:

Contemplating suicide doesn't work as a thought experiment unless you take it seriously, and in order to take it seriously you must actually consider doing it. However, without the thought experiment you're more mentally unhealthy and therefore more likely to go through with the act itself, out of impulse rather than planning. So the choice appears to be between being obsessed with suicide or committing it, and which is worse is a guess at best.

So here's to you, everybody. Aren't you glad your choices have led you here? If this is the end of your journey, traveler, what a stupid mess you've made of your life. There is no glory this time around, just a long gray hallway with thin carpet and flickering, fluorescent light. Maybe later you can take some of your time-points and trade them for the chance to sit and watch a movie wherein something amazing takes place, because it sure as hell ain't going to happen to you any other way.

posted by dale @ 3:57 PM