The northlondonhippy

Archive for December 8th, 2006

I think too much; it’s what I do.

When you think too much, you need to keep think­ing of new things to think about, which takes up a good por­tion of your think­ing time.

I was think­ing the other day just how much we’re in our infancy as the dom­i­nant species in charge of the planet and I thought of a way to express this within a per­spec­tive, which we can all relate to in our own frame of reference.

A gen­er­a­tion is accepted as twenty-years, so if you were sixty, you could have a child that was forty, with a child of twenty, who could be a par­ent as well. So that’s four gen­er­a­tions, all alive at one time.

If you agree that 20 years is one gen­er­a­tion, then 100 gen­er­a­tions is 2000 years, which takes us nearly back to the time Jesus was allegedly strolling around Galilee. It’s the frame of ref­er­ence we use every day in our mod­ern, west­ern dates; it’s 2006 AD right now.

2000 years may seem like a tremen­dously lengthy time period; in the scheme of the uni­verse it is less than a blink of an eye. We’re still evo­lu­tion­ary chil­dren, who shouldn’t be trusted with the fate of the planet. We’re just not mature enough to have that sort of responsibility.

At our hearts, we are still sav­ages and though some of us aspire to rise above that and live our lives in more pur­pose­ful ways, most of us are ani­mals with base, pri­mor­dial, sur­vival instincts guid­ing our decisions.

If I can’t fuck it, or eat it, then I’ll kill it and eat it or fuck it.

In the news­pa­per today I read two sim­i­lar sto­ries about the true nature of our soci­ety and the gen­uine face of mankind.

Two men; inde­pen­dently of each other, col­lapse and die; one on the street, the other in his place of business.

In both cases, help from the pub­lic was sought. With the man who died on the street, his pock­ets were picked clean of his wal­let, keys and mobile phone. The man in his office, as well as hav­ing his pock­ets stripped bare, by the pass­ing “good Samar­i­tans” also had his his lap­top, mobile phone and other assorted kit from his office stolen, all while his dis­traught part­ner was in the next room phon­ing for the paramedics.

If both of those inci­dents are not con­sid­ered despi­ca­ble, then I don’t know what the word means!

Wel­come to the real word, you stu­pid hippy. Cru­elty bor­der­ing on the sadis­tic is the norm in our world; we choose to believe that the real­ity is bet­ter than that.

It’s not, not by a long shot and if you col­lapse in the streets, you should just expect to have your valu­ables quickly taken from you while your down. You can prob­a­bly count on a few kicks in the head as well, since you’re such an easy target.

I couldn’t walk past some­one on the ground with­out check­ing they were alright and it wouldn’t occur to me in a mil­lion years to rifle through their pock­ets in search of swag!

Maybe there’s some­thing wrong with me?

And that’s a rev­e­la­tion? There’s loads wrong with me. Being a liv­ing god doesn’t come with­out a price. You live my life for a while if you don’t believe me. None of you could take it, you pussies!

Ah-hem.

Think about it, 100 gen­er­a­tions is noth­ing; you can imag­ine that, it gives things per­spec­tive. We are still chil­dren, barely evolved with our lizard brains doing most of the think­ing. We still fight wars; we still kill each other for no good rea­son. Of course we do, we’re not even ado­les­cents yet!

100 gen­er­a­tions; it’s less than a blink of an eye. We were nail­ing peo­ple to crosses, the dead were ris­ing, and it was a mag­i­cal time.

We think we’re so advanced and so mod­ern and so high up on the evo­lu­tion­ary scale. Look around you; the com­pe­ti­tion is hardly fierce!

We’re the dom­i­nant species and we shouldn’t be. We’re not up to it, like if you’re parent’s left you home alone when you were not really mature or respon­si­ble enough and they came back to find the gas cooker on and the pilot light out and you and your lit­tle brother are groggy on the sofa. You said you were ready to be left alone, but obvi­ously you weren’t!

Ok, that hap­pened to me when I was a child, so it’s true and I know what I’m talk­ing about. As a race, we’ve left the oven on and we’re all groggy on the sofa. We said we were ready to run the world and look at the mess we’ve made!

So the next time, someone’s claim­ing how shit-hot human beings are, remem­ber what you’re old pal the hippy told you. One hun­dred gen­er­a­tions ain’t nothin’!

PS
My con­test is still open if you would like to enter. Remem­ber, this time the prize is one north London-based hippy of ques­tion­able moral fibre for a week­end at your place! Start down­load­ing some extra hard­core porn and stock up on a seri­ous quan­tity skunky bud!