Saturday, January 2, 2010

Hope = Death, a bleak observation

The problem with last night's blog was that it was too repetitive. A struggle to figure out what more can be said about how shitty my existence is. After plenty of calling God a sadistic bastard and thoughts to Frank Miller's "Sin City," I think I may have received a divine answer.

It doesn't get that douche bag Iehova off the shit list, but it is a lesson that I think all should learn and the sooner the better.

Nothing good can come from hope. There has got to be a fucking game plan and the knowledge that the game will end.

This is probably why the Cubs never amount to champions. Cubs "fans" are too busy hoping that this will be the year they will end a century (it's still early in this one, so I'm rounding down) without a championship instead of figuring out how the Cubs can win it.

I think I went over this in my Harbinger article "Why are Chicago Sports Fans Restricted to Hoping." Of course, they have a shitty web adviser, so finding it on their website isn't going to happen. No worries, I'll post it tomorrow on http://harshside309.blogspot.com

Back to the bitching about God failing to give us a reach around. If you are restricted to hoping something good will happen in a situation, it won't. Name one person you've hoped from their death bed?

Look at Baby Dax. We were hoping he wasn't going to cash it in. We hoped a miracle would save his butt.

We hope when something is impossible. We got to stop doing that.

Look at "Sin City". Bruce Willis's character says it best after telling Jessica Alba justice will prevail and tells her to run off:
And after I pull off that miracle, maybe I'll go punch out God.
Our hero then promptly blows his brains out because the game is over.

It can even be traced back to "Fight Club".
First you have to give up, first you have to *know*... not fear... *know*... that someday you're gonna die.
Characters occassionally get lucky like Clive Owen in "Sin City," but in the end, "City of Men" found a way to make a downer flick even more depressing.

Perhaps this is why writing has been difficult for me right now. What I write is creationism. If you don't love god, how can you play one. This is killing my fiction, my screenplay, and my return to the wrestling scene.

God is a dick, but I'll give him credit to his wisdom. He gave his detractor some of it to try to get me over him.

But I'm a fucking Cubs fan, and like the trade of Lou Brock, I don't get over shit.

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