Little sons and daughters of bitches. And bastards. We all say son-of-a-bitch, as if the father had nothing to do with it. Alright, I’m not a bastard in the original sense of the word, but I’m sure there are some people who would call me a motherfucking bastard.
I’ve got two children, and I love them, but when I see how they edge up against each other, how they needle each other to the point of insanity, I start to wonder: why in hell do they do that? Rascals.
It seems as if there is something in children, just the same as in adults, which makes them want to fuck with other people’s minds. The nearest available victim is the sibling, since the parents are basically unapproachable in that area (well, most parents anyway, I’ve seen kids who torture their parents too). Not that they stop there, the same thing applies to any group of children; it starts in kindergarten.
I’s a thinkin’: ah, my innocent, wonderful little son, such a smart little boy… then I hear how he pissed in the bushes of the kindergarten playground and mobbed some poor ass together with his friends. Alright, I’s thinkin’, pissed in the bushes, don’t give a fuck about that… My daughter didn’t piss in the bushes, but I’ll just bet there were far more hurtful verbal cat-fights that went on.
Mobbing. Just a new word for an old thing: people fucking over other people. Children do it just the same as adults, and I wonder why. Why? Why do humans do this? It seems inseparable with social life, and that is exactly the thing that makes me insociable. I don’t engage in that shit, at least not consciously. That’s the thing, it seems to be a basic instinct among social animals. Establish the god damned fucking pecking order. Who is the boss, who is the henchman, who is the outsider…?
God, how I hate it. I know it’s normal, but I hate it all the more for it. I just don’t understand why people have to be so hateful to each other. It’s like the wolf-pack I once observed in a wild animal park. The park-ranger (for lack of a better word) explained that a wolf-pack is a social group, as we watched one of them being harried by the others, yelping in helpless fright… and a hierarchy must be established. And reestablished, again and again. And the poor bastard on the bottom rung of the ladder, well…? Harried, a miserable fucking life.
It’s wrong. I’m telling you, it’s wrong. Even the last poor bastard at the bottom has redeeming features. Maybe he has talents that could help us survive, as a group. And if not… we are not wolves, dammit. We are smart enough to see beyond the basics. Teach your children that, force them to it, the way I (try to) do. Sometimes you have to use force, mental force that is; explain it, again and again. Make them understand, show them. At the very least, you should try to fight against base instincts. Teach them that this is a place worth living in, even for the lowest of the low. The lowest human being has beauty within them, just the same as a wolf on the bottom rung. Poor bastard. I once read a book in which a child was killed by his own father for losing food which was essential to survival. The father simply dashed his head against a rock. The kid was a little fuck-up, I suppose, and his father lost patience with him. What he might have been capable of no one will ever know.
Base = bad? No. Base = stupid. The basic survival strategies of a pack of wolves should not apply to us. We are that much smarter, dammit. I think. Or are you nothing more than a wolf? Are you a child? Do you really believe that there is a single human being, or, for that matter, a single wolf on this earth, without any intrinsic value? An intrinsic value afforded by the simple fact that they are alive, and among us? They belong. They are beautiful.