How Raoul Duke Would Explain Our Trip To a Naysayer
I shouldn’t have to say this, but this is Raoul Duke.
Goddammit man, don’t you hear yourself talking like a prostitute? Can’t you hear the lies you’re spewing? Don’t you see that’s all a salary is — a damn bribe for a job you wouldn’t do normally? You’ve been bent-over, turning tricks for so long you can’t even stand up and see the world for what it is anymore. Or it’s worse — you can see it, loathing every minute of your 40-hour-per-week prison sentence, but you’re too wrapped up in fear to jump the gate and escape.
This is about freedom, man. Life, liberty, and the fucking pursuit of happiness. And not the lies the corporate squares whisper into your ears before they stick a knife in your gut and bleed you out onto the office floor. This is the real thing — true freedom. Or as close as you can hope to get to it, anyway.
This government-sanctioned, corporate-fueled fantasy life is a goddamn lie. It’s a tentacle in your brain trying to control you, and if you let one tentacle in, it grows another and another and another until you’re a robot automaton. Focus on those vibrations — they’re keeping you in lock-step.
Your home is a coffin, your car a hearse. You spend your days driving yourself to your own funeral. The corporate ladder is a system designed to give you the minimum reward needed to keep you submissive. And in the end, you pay the ultimate price — your life. And you’ll look back on it and wonder what you did with your time. This is about seizing that time. Time is all there is.
No, not money. Money is just a medium of exchange. You worship it like a god, but it’s a false god. Turn your back on it, because if you worship it, you’ll never have enough. There’s nobody poorer than the man with the million-dollar income and billion-dollar dreams, getting sucked dry by mortgage payments, car payments, school payments, club payments … bills paid in blood to vultures that will take everything. If you can beat the vultures, you’ll always be rich.
So that’s it. Let’s go. We’ve got to go. We need to drive away from this zoo at top speed. We can’t stop here. This is bat country.
photo credit: He.Who.Wanders