Thought Crime? Thought is the Crime!

Pretty much everything I agree to do, I don’t want to do.  When it comes right down to it, when it’s time, I don’t want to.  This goes from the obvious, agreeing to cover somebody’s shift at work, not that I’ve known what that’s like for a long time, to even having a kid.  Having a kid is something I agreed to.  Loads of people aren’t that lucky to get to choose to have a kid.  It’s just something that happened to them when they were fifteen, but I chose.  I chose to upset the status quo, to rattle my comfort zone and get up close and overly personal with poo.   Poo in diapers, poo in pants, poo on the floor, in the bathtub, under my nails, in hair, slathered all over the scrotum like peanut butter for the family dog.  This was all ultimately my choice.  And when I agreed to it, to have the kid, I hoped it would never happen.  Sterility was my dream.  If it would have been possible and not have been a completely immoral act towards my wife, I’d have gotten a secret vasectomy.  So, I’d ask myself, “If I don’t want it, then why’d I agree to it in the first place?”  Especially, now this is crucial, when I knew I didn’t want to do whatever it is before I agreed to do that thing. I shouldn’t act like having a kid so horrible.  I haven’t agreed to anything totally horrible.  The fact that I haven’t been partially eaten yet by a German is testament to my fairly sane decision making skills, but I seemingly don’t want to do nearly anything I’ve agreed to. It’s as if I simply don’t trust myself to do anything I maybe even at one point wanted to do.

I say I’ll play a show or attend a party, and when I said “yes” to either of those, I meant it, but on the day of the event I start scrambling around looking for excuses not to play, not to go.  Why would I want to?  It just means I’m going to have to be around other people, and that might be the worst thing about having had a kid is that I have no choice but to be around the kid all the time.  I have to hear every little bullshit idea that crosses his mind.  I have to watch his ordinary human insanity grow and unspool before my eyes, and worst of all, I’m responsible for it.  I made him.  I’m raising him.  If he grows up to be Ted Bundy or Newt Gingrich, then I will somehow have been to blame.  Maybe not to blame in a big way, but to blame enough that I’d never forgive myself for unleashing yet another typical monster into the selfishly overpopulated world.

What have I been saying?  That I’m a selfish twat who only wants to do what he wants to do precisely when he wants to do it.  No revelation there.  People are selfish.  Hurray for all my words.  I know I am a self-centered island unto myself, and when people wash up on the shores of my life, I don’t want them climbing in my coconut tree.  But I let them.  I’ll even get out the ladder and volunteer to go up there for them so they don’t get hurt.  For this – I don’t want to use the words selflessness or altruism even if objectively they work because subjectively, from my point of view, those words don’t do shit to explain what’s really going on – minor act of selflessness some people need religion.  They are good, they’ll say, because God demands it of them.  I don’t believe in gods, let alone universal dictates based on these gods’ alleged authority, but I go ahead and basically do the selfless thing anyways.  But I don’t do it in my mind, and the bible gets bitchy about thought crimes or shit you say in your heart.  It’s these thought crimes I’ll never be able to turn off.  The bible pretty much says you can cheat on your spouse using only the power of your mind.  That book knows how powerful thinking can be.  I think that’s why it takes great pains to shit all over thought, and actively seeks to direct the thinking of the people who decide to go ahead and believe its wackaloonery.  It’s a device used to frighten children.  “He knows what you’ve been thinking…”  That’s a scary lyric.  Slayer has never come close to that level of appalling horror.  “He knows what you’ve been thinking.”  Get out of my head!  What the fuck are you looking for in there?  Yah!  And that’s when you take the electric drill to get out the bad ghost that lives in your skull.  Well, I don’t want to leave anything for the ghost, and that’s why I’m disclosing it all here.  I do things I don’t want to all the time, and maybe agreeing to do something you don’t want to do and carrying through with it while hatred and bile churns in your black hearted guts, maybe that’s what morality is all about.  Now get the fuck out of my head.

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