Authentic cynicism is optimism. This is not Orwellian Newspeak. Understand the veracity and depth of this statement and you will find joy. The biting dogs are the happy ones.
Modernism is cold, rational thought,
an endless procession of power-line poles
white-dashed interstate highways leading nowhere.
Crumbling pavement blanketing the soil, suffocating earthworms.
Believing the same technology that begat the atomic bomb and the earth mover has the capacity to create for us a safe, settled life.
The cold, vicious State
inducing tears and lumps in the throats of its dulled victims
the flag waving at sporting events. Fighter jet flybys.
A spotted, sagging soldier, 101st Airborne cap, a dementia stare, facing a wall,
rocking to and fro in the nursing home
Fat, uniformed attendants step around him, sipping on Pepsi.
Modernism is a smirking god in the sky, supernatural or ideological,
Astounded after thousands of years that we still believe his shit.
Cynicism glares at modernism and bites.
Cynicism glances at post-modernism and laughs uproariously,
embarrassed for but amused by its effeminate philosophers.
Black-framed glasses, hair gel, oxfords, blue jeans and sandals,
Unskilled laborers on laptops,
lying on tweed sofas, lying to themselves in the cloud.
Teachers of a shameful, weak digression.
They cannot reach the transcendent,
so they cling to fatherly fragments of transcendence in the ideological sky,
a paternal presence that abandoned them when they were in diapers.
A broken world they traverse and a miscellaneous sky they wing.
The postmodernist found no unity so embraced a misty mosaic,
the god of Moses for the god of montage.
Both gods reside in the dreamy sky of ideas.
Ideas in the sky destroy life on earth.
The cynic remains faithful to the earth.
Authentic cynicism defined
Authentic cynicism is really not a reaction or response but a life-affirming Awakening made lucent by the nihilism of modernism, the emptiness of post-modernism, the artifice of civilization.
Awakening from a Dream
Authentic cynicism growls at the hypocrisy and decadence of social customs, the State, religion, toil and all other elements of the civilization project. The old ideas and institutions that for millennia sustained civilization’s lie are revealed to the cynic as ever-tightening shackles. Cynics have awakened from the dream of civilization to see that it was indeed a juvenile fantasy contrived by indolent sociopaths and maintained by well-paid warriors, bureaucrats, priests and kings who have overseen the enslavement of humans and suicidal extraction from the earth, all of them inspired by an infantile fascination with technology as an answer to the human condition.
Institutional religion has crumbled under the weight of its own arrogance, self-aggrandizement and irrelevancy. Unemployed priests and preachers are flocking to bureaucratic positions in the State where they can control people from the lofty heights of government power. Perhaps not as lofty as heaven, but they will find higher salaries with benefits. A temporary gig until the State, too, collapses of its own avarice and greed. Then the only remaining kingdom will be the family where the former hireling priests will rule with an iron fist. The head of household is the last great hold out for sociopaths.
Government offers sanction and inspiration
for those who hunger for flesh and thirst for blood
In Pilate’s washed hands the body is broken and the cup is poured
Perpetual, imperialistic wars
Debasement and reliance
Monopoly money to further fund the farce.
At his hands, civilization was forced on the free,
the wandering free, rolling barrels
Authentic cynics resist its allure,
its clean, marble veneer, which veils its violence
The family is no longer a natural association of free individuals practicing mutuality. The family is an indoctrination tool into the civilization project that teaches obedience, punctuality, orderliness, god worship, consumerism, domesticity. Subsumed and co-opted by civilization, the family, like the earth, has been ripped apart by violence, divorce and addiction.
Finally, nature itself is dying.
Food is tainted.
Air is poisoned.
Landscapes are denuded and leveled,
paved over with concrete interstates and
big box stores that offer consumer fixes to a dream
shattered in humpty-dumpty fashion.
Cynics get an unsettling feeling in their stomachs
when they see the kings’ horses rushing to save the planet with state programs,
popular pogroms funded by Pharma and Agri, quaintly marketed at county fairs
Popular cynicism is owned by mass marketers.
In mass unreality, it is cool to be cynical.
Marketers co-opt natural cynicism and package it as lame popular cynicism. “Do not trust anyone over 30.”
The popular cynic buys a $30 T-shirt that reads, “WHATEVER.”
The popular cynics owned by the grim, mass marketers are dark,
Lifeless prophets of doom, garbed in gothic gloom.
They stare at screens, gamers, blinds pulled down, annihilating avatars
By hiding, they cower before authority,
killing children in the classroom
Authentic cynics awaken to mass culture’s dullness,
strip off their clothes and walk barefoot in the mud,
shouting with joy,
flipping off the judge.
Diogenes, the true cynic, lies in a barrel, rolling to fresh autonomous zones when
he tires of one place.
When the emperor imposes this imposing presence on Diogenes, the cynic says, “Get the hell out of my way! You’re blocking my sunlight!”
The young cynics owned by the mass marketers are naïve,
Their bohemian dress is a costly substitute (in more ways than one) for
Diogenes’ rolling barrel.