Tag Archives: morality


A good many people will take the dawn of a new calendar year as a signal from some higher power to kneel at the altar of self-deprivation, pledging themselves to some puritanical amoeba-like existence in the blind hope that it will preserve their oh-so-precious bodies for a meagre few more years of life.

Meanwhile, I’m doing my level best to do all the drinking and meat-eating for them in a bid to maintain the rapidity of the universe’s collapse. This tired charade of human life has really gone on for far too long as it is; the pretence of sustainability in a world moulded by greed is as laughable as a pig on an ice rink – which would be perfectly hilarious if it weren’t a perfect metaphor for human progress. Whilst I’m loathe to dance as this grim cavalcade nears its end, I see no reason to delay that end.

I’m interminably incensed by the holier than thou horseshit that spews forth every time someone proudly proclaims that they’ve kicked a habit that they deem detrimental to their pointless existence. The only things that punctuate the grim monotony of life are those rare exotic substances that for a brief, fleeting moment rescue you from the seeping septic tank of the world and help launch you into the realm of sheer self-indulgent bliss. That might sound like an advert for pro-biotic yoghurt and other affordable placebos, but it stands as a defence for those life-shortening sweeteners that make the world we’ve crafted a bearable one.

Smoking that first cigarette after work, I’m almost inclined to believe there could be a god, such are the restorative powers of all that some seek to deny themselves during the bleakest month of the year. The prospect of Dry January or Veganuary – take a moment here to reflect upon the kind of world we live in where that is a legitimate term for the first month of the year – is so unceasingly dull it merely serves to stretch our tedious existence out for longer than necessary, which to me feels like a lose-lose deal.

Especially at a time like January! With such gibbering gumption do people decry the old follies of alcoholism and any other earthly pleasure that can be given up for a month in the pursuit of moral superiority. At this time of year there can be no greater need for the home-comforts of mind-numbing alcohol, tobacco and all the other vices through which we sustain ourselves amidst the madness of meal deals, fun-running and zero-hour contracts.

People always blather out of their gaping word-holes about how much they think this year will be full of positivity and change and progress and other buzzwords that middle-managers in PR firms bandy around when trying to flog a new form of hair-gunk or when David Cameron’s trying to bomb someone. Why? How in god’s tit did you reach that conclusion you fucking genius? Maybe these are the same people who believe in horoscopes, yoga, juice diets or sharing Britain First memes. Never mind Mystic Meg, these twats have been listening to Denial Deidre and Bullshit Barbara.

We inhabit a planet that rejects us, a world desperately retching like someone regretting a suicidal overdose. A world where everyone’s a salesman flogging themselves as a brand in a disparaging fire sale of our collective sanity. A world where style finally drove an ice-pick of idiocy through the skull of substance. A world we paradoxically wish to save and yet are pre-programmed to consume – how, here, can there possibly be something so flagrantly deluded as hope?

We’ve unwittingly been sold our own values back to us; whether we wanted to cut out red meat for quixotic desires or for the self-absorbed pursuit of health, beauty and all the other hypocrisies that humans beings are capable of, it doesn’t matter. We believe that by consuming a product, or not consuming a product, we have performed an act of free will, whereas in reality the values we try to exude, the ones that we feel define us and our conscious decisions as human beings who matter, are merely defined in relation to our consumption or rejection of some marketing executive’s wet dream.

Whether we buy into the wet dream or the dream of free will and rebellion through a month or even a lifetime of eating nothing but damp cardboard, we’re still buying in. And it costs us more than a loaf of artisan pumpkin-seed gluten-free bread.

The pious holy-rollers of the sustainability camp are merely prolonging a life that cannot possibly meet the unrealistically high expectations that their values set upon themselves. Abstaining from drinking or going vegan or vegetarian on the grounds of some moral bent somewhat misses the point, ecologically speaking – will these same people avoid combustion engines, mass produced electronic goods and anything that uses processed packaging?

Due to the ubiquitous nature of the aforementioned evils, such an absolutist morality is only serving to prolong human existence in a far from perfect world. The “every little helps” notion is quaint and commendable in some abstract sense, but I’d much rather these self-sacrificing Mormon-esque types get busy dying along with the rest of us. We live in a cesspool and you brought a mop of morality? There’s no undoing the damage and there’s really not a great deal to cry about or save, so let’s just snap the neck of the world rather than strangle it slowly. Let every cigarette, every drink, every sirloin steak be just another pillow in the greatest smother party the world will never see!

Whether we were designed or found such a pugnacious form by accident is irrelevant – we are all cursed with the same in-built desire to persevere irrespective of the consequences. At this stage denying yourself those deadly small joys is merely obeying that programming. Self-flagellation is just masturbation without the mess, whereas self-destruction is a noble act in a world of narcissistic self-belief. And it’s probably the only mercy we’re capable of collectively granting to all the other life that inhabits this planet.

Top-notch moral compass

Society is often really quick to tell you that some shit just isn’t cool.

I’m not talking about wearing the wrong color to a wedding, or asking a war vet how many men he’s murdered with his bare hands. No, I’m talking about feeling good about yourself.

See, if you feel good about yourself, for any reason really, say you are particularly good at cooking a certain dish, or are just a genuinely honest person, you can’t just tell people that. Really, try telling someone that you’re very honest or that your moral compass is top notch. You know what they’ll probably call you? A ‘self-righteous prick’.

Some people will think what the hell – you are a self-righteous prick if you go out of your way to tell someone how awesome you are. But to them it doesn’t matter if the context fits or not. If you’re better than someone in a trait that is considered good or desirable, and you happen to talk about it appropriately, you’re immediately seen as a narcissist whose only desire is to have everyone know how great you are (even if you are really fucking great).

My girlfriend and I are fighting right now about our relationship, which is temporarily long distance (no, I don’t care about your opinion on that, at least I have a girlfriend, dick). The problem doesn’t matter. What matters is that my girlfriend is a standoffish woman. She makes everything a ‘you vs me’ affair.

Conversely, I feel it should be ‘me & you vs problem’. Am I technically the better person for having this point of view? Possibly. The point is, when I explain that to her, I sound like a ‘self-righteous prick’, just because of the more efficient way I deal with things. Fuck me, right?

If you’re a good person, the world (and your girlfriend) wants you to keep it to yourself. But if you’re just a ball of fucking badass morality and goodness and it helps you solve problems in life, don’t feel like a dick for pointing out that you are a good guy or girl. Feel good that you can say such positive things about yourself.

But if you instead rub in the fact that you’re the epitome of human nature, I have bad news – you’re not. You’re an asshole. Get over yourself. And if you think the former is still self-righteous, understand this: just because someone is good at something and they feel good about themselves for it, this does make them a self-absorbed douchebag – so long as they don’t use their good traits as a means to put down others.

Let’s all love each other. We all are good and bad. And if my girlfriend still can’t see that, well shit, what hope do I have of convincing you?

Magaluf Girl

A week ago Britain was draped in red, white and blue. People filled the streets waving coloured cloth in support of the armed forces. Folks stood cheering and saluting as tanks filled with bombs drove by.

“Quick, get the cameras ready, fighter jets are about to fly over. Look at the way they sore majestically through the clouds.” I only ever see planes flying like this on special occasions. Think how lucky Afghan children are, they get to see planes like this ever day and they’re filled with bombs. Lucky, lucky bastards. I will never get to see a carpet-bombing in real life.

‘Thanks to our brave boys and girls’ was trending worldwide. The nation joined in support of the soldiers fighting in a war the country didn’t want. We love the pawns fighting on the chessboard of the military-industrial complex we pretend to hate. What they do is “moral, brave and courageous. They sacrifice their life for you so you can live in freedom and safety.”

I don’t really give a shit about the war. People like to kill people, it’s a fun old sport. Paintballing is enjoyable but hearing that gunshot explode and seeing a head get blown up is way more exciting. What I have a problem with is the way people justify this with bullshit language.

An example: this week a young British lady was on holiday in Magaluf, a perfect place to be when you are young and single or not single. It doesn’t matter if you have 157 partners back home waiting for your return. You are in Magaluf and the energy is pulsating. The sun is beating down, the drinks are 40% proof, priced at £1. Fuck missing that alcohol induced opportunity because you’re 2 grams through the most potent MDMA, you are pure ecstasy, the world is love and you are too. Sex is raining on the roof, sex is dripping down the walls. You are fucking. You are fucking like an ox on steroids, no man or machine or god is stopping you from coming. Be you male or female you are pulling the vinegar face of happiness.

So this young lady I will now be calling Magaluf Girl was embracing this craziness. But the CCTV of modern life captured her in this moment; someone filmed her on a smartphone and posted a video online of her living the madness. Now the world has seen two minutes of her existence where she’s sucking the flaccid dicks of strangers for a cocktail drink.

1) Fuck that asshole for putting it up. He is a fucking creep. I’m pretty confident Magaluf Girl wouldn’t have wanted that.
2) Fuck the papers for making it a national story exploiting a woman’s right to do what the fuck she wants or in this case the want she fucks.

Magaluf Girl, this is a wonderful thing if this was something you wanted to do. Magaluf Girl, I celebrate it, you are young and beautiful and have the right to bring joy to the 20-odd men you blew as long as it brings joy to yourself. If it was something you wanted to do it was a great way to display happiness and love. We should all feel confident enough to take off our clothes, party and go balls deep into a stranger without feeling shame or hate from others. Magaluf Girl, your next cocktail is on me. Just please don’t let the bastards grind you down.

But the press and people of the Britain, like the vultures they are, have picked apart this moment and have slut shamed her. Calling her “cheap, sickening and immoral” and this is where I get back to bullshit language. We live in a culture where it’s ‘moral’ to be a hired killer for a government that drone strikes the innocent of other countries because they’re brown and don’t follow “our” agenda. It’s ‘moral’ to fire bomb and set villages ablaze. It’s ‘moral’ to stack people against their will naked in pyramids but it’s ‘immoral’ to express love with your lips wrapped a throbbing cock in a club with a buzzing DJ set.

The way humans talk tells us everything we need to know about us shaven apes. We have a lot of evolving to do.