when i'm god everyone dies

yeah, one totally entails the other, I can see that; except some of us who support the pro-choice movement want to give our unborn child “all the things we never had as a kid” too; above all, the priceless opportunity never to have been in the first place. To suffer just once, a little, in the very beginning—while sense-perception is liminal and the intellect abecedarian, with no experiencing-structure and hence no memory or capacity for trauma—saving them from the cruel spectacle of a bloody birth followed by a crash course in social taboo, a hasty introduction into this mediocre and unremarkable sideshow of a Life (that can be said to be the only consensual reality); a farce acted by a petrified and involuntary walk-on who mimes the others, makes nice and plays dumb, plays the game (the Zero-Sum game), cheats and bullshits until it becomes second nature, which means: no conscience, no metanoia. If he doesn’t critically delude himself, he’ll destroy himself by displacing his depression in obsession, in religion, romance or drugs; careerism, exhibitionism, mystic quietism? Bureaucrats or whores—all sublimates of Hegel’s unhappy consciousness—all the same at heart. Finally succumbing to psychosis or the nightmare of the real (there is no alternative, after a point); maybe his wife dies, or he retires, or he has a humbling experience (the idol is smashed, the trophy is recognized as a petty trinket) & the old but not wise man takes a long, hard look back and sees it was all for naught, that no matter what, You Can’t Take It With You. So he sits in the garage with the windows rolled down, the car stuck in idle, and a hose leading from the tailpipe to his mouth—taped shut. Or he fall backs on folk wisdom and the dubious ‘success’ of his peers & keeps on keepin’ on, into his mid-80’s, into a state of perpetual bewilderment—wandering into dementia and out of dignity, in a strange place with a bib around his neck—and a funny look on his face. What difference does it make? Eventually, inevitably, he bows out as if it all happened in a dream; into the oblivion that imagination admits but cannot conceive, having learned shit all but the Buddha’s first noble truth, life is suffering. Really, we’re (i.e. prospective parents, women who get fucked) doing the only Right Thing, this is our syndereis, our sovereign & ethical prerogative (as an individual or a couple) and any half-wit can see that. By coat-hanger or forceps, by hook or crook, just frighten that fucker out of there. All three of you will regret it if you don’t, until your dying day. Read June 24th, 2022 on Misery Loves Company. Written in response to a sign that says “Everyone who supported slavery was free. Everyone who supported abortion was born. That’s how oppression works. ‘They’re not really people’-We’ve heard that before!”