Thursday, August 27, 2009

We, The Irrational

Absurd creatures, the lot. Teenagers. Clearly, the minds are only partially fouled by life experience, and therefore must be soiled by the humiliating circus that passes for common existence.

If they are to be trusted.

In the name of traditional wisdom we shoehorn them into submission—wedged until they conform to the mandates of social conditioning.

Ours.

In order to induce conformity, it must be forced upon them: the hot intolerance of spirit systems: pain, self-loathing, fear.

Pockets of logic remain—social cavities not yet plastered over.

How dare these parasitic worms question what is blindly accepted? Who are they to celebrate the primal ecstasy of their humanness, without the back hunching weight of inherited Sin? Preposterous!

There will be no insolent smirking when guilt is driven through their hands like rusty nails. No backtalk.

After they face 10,000 bitter mornings to endure labor they despise and debt impossible to digest, they will not dance about like drunken he-goats!

Productive citizenry…

No wonder they plug IPODs into their skulls, drown themselves in video games, cell-phones, internet. Never to surface and face the static droning idealisms they’re manufactured to oppose. Teenage rebellion.

In regards to youth, that fragile clay, which we hack to form with blunt, imprecise instruments: may we ever endure their rage as they flail against the impotent storm of our teachings.

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