What is happening to us? To mankind? How we have ended up here?
These are questions that any thinking person must ask themselves when they watch the news or look into the mirror - the great truth teller.
The politics. The poverty. The immorality. The lies.
Unfortunately my questions aren't that deep or meaningful. They should be... but they are not. They are not deep. They are not even that interesting. They are shallow and dumb. They are the fast food of questions.
Why do my children do such strange things? I believe that given the opportunity - my children whom are usually well behaved and thoughtful - would try to light my socks on fire while I am wearing them. Of course they haven't ever done this but I credit the omission to ignorance or lack of creativity rather than capacity. And the sock lighting wouldn't even be malicious. It would be sort of a exploration into a fire and wool rather than an outright attempt to harm me... but the results would be the same.
I can't figure out why the kids haven't tried to climb our crispy Christmas tree yet. Or why they haven't managed to order a calypso drum kit off of the internet... they seem to do so many other things.
As a result of their antics I have a follow-up question:
Why does my ear hair grow with such aggression?
I'm not kidding when I say that my ear hair could be used to string and very short necked guitar. It is so coarse and unruly and grooming kit dulling that I've been forced into using our hedge clippers to do the job. You know before I had kids I didn't have this problem. My ear hair was nothing more than faint angelic fuzz. Like a miniature duckling bottom dangling beneath my ear holes. How could such a thing become so wrong. So wiry.
It is because of all the humanity around me. All six legs of it.
I'll blame the news and the world and the clear brokenness of it all as well but really I'd like to blame my children - whom I love.
It isn't associated to my age which is too easy a thing to blame. Nor my thinning scalp or my poor diet or my increasing crotchetiness.
Humanity is pushing its way out of my formally silkweed encapsulated lobes.
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