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THE AGE OF RAGE

The world is in a bad place right now. Maybe it’s never been anywhere else. Or maybe it really is the end-times. Conventional wisdom holds that there are 5-7 stages of grief, depending on who you ask. I feel the time has come to move on, my friends. Our denial has overstayed its welcome. It is time for the next step toward acceptance.

It is time for Rage.

When the good doctor tells you the disease is terminal, at first, you refuse to accept it. Like battling global warming with hybrid cars and the off-setting of carbon footprints, you might even try your hand at bargaining. People tell you to “think positive” and “look on the bright side,” mostly because they don’t want to face what they know is true: that noise you hear is the din of disappointment, the crash and boom of a world mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. We are deer in headlights. Shit, meet fan.

So what are we supposed to do? Give to charity? Protest outside the White House lawn? Recycle? We’re like the Ikea man who drops his shelving unit which breaks because he didn’t read the instructions that tell him specifically not to do that. How do we fix a world that’s so broken we don’t even know what it was supposed to be in the first place? What are we supposed to do?

The answer:

I don’t know.

Seriously, I don’t. If I knew how to undo all the injustice in the world, don’t you think I’d be doing it instead of sitting in my pyjamas ranting on the internet? So why this blog? Why am I here? Why are any of us here?

Someone once said that the first step toward wisdom is to admit “I don’t know.” If you jump to conclusions, how can you keep an open mind? If you think you know all the answers, how can you keep asking the questions? Wars are started by people who think they’re right when they don’t even understand the other side of the argument. Mistakes are made by people who think they’ve got it all figured out.

I’m not here to give you the answers. I’m here to ask the questions.

Sometimes shit pisses me off. And when that happens, I ask myself, “why am I so angry?” And I keep asking that, digging deeper and deeper until I think I’ve found the root cause. I let that inspire me to ask questions about the society that enabled that root to grow. I ask what can be done. I pose the rest to you.

Am I always right? Well, yes, but do I even know what I’m talking about? Probably not. Do I have all the answers? That’s retarded. Do I proof-read my posts? I probably should. But I pour my words out from my feelings, from that little glowing power-core deep within my servos where my rage comes from. Rage is empowering, and I choose to use that power for good.

I’m not here to scream nonsensically, shaking my fist at the heavens and ask “why me?” I’m here to discover what makes me mad, and why. I’m here to make you mad, too. Why? Because the time for complacency, for positive thinking, for blind denial is over. It is the dawn of a new age.

The Age of Rage.

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