By Wil Forbis
Sometimes, it just doesn't pay to be good. In fact, most times it doesn't
pay to be good. Scratch that, it NEVER pays to be good.
I hate to sound jaded, as if the Emperor has finally convinced me to
use my Jedi powers for the dark side, but take a look around. It seems
we live in a world where the money, the power and yes, even the women
are granted to the morally vacuous, the spiritually corrupt, while decent
noble folk (like myself) totter along hoping that at the end of day
we'll at least be able to raid our grandmother's Vicadin prescription
and down it with a scotch and soda. Just look at the sellouts and scum
who parade through the newspapers and magazines of today's godless society:
Donald Trump, O.J. Simpson, Mariah Carey, Bill Clinton, Courtney Love,
George W. Bush… filth, every one of them. They got where they are by
stepping on the little people around them and once they arrived they
had no problem abusing their position. But still the public fawns over
these ilk, excusing their every transgression. We've become a nation
of yes men for every wife-beating, money-hoarding, intern-fondling germ
culture that generates a six-digit income or is labeled one of People's
"50 Most Attractive."
Need a more specific example? Take Mike Tyson. To me he's always stood
as an excellent model of the concept that evil always wins. He takes
home million dollar purses and fornicates with supermodels as a reward
for his date-raping, brain-smashing, ear-chomping thuggery. And all
the while he shows no remorse or regret. Why should he? Despite his
transgressions he has legions of fans who acclaim his ability to pummel
and whom hang on his every paranoid, self pitying word. Women wrote
him love letters while he vacationed in prison for raping one of their
sisters. Don't get me wrong, the problem isn't Tyson, it's the society
that rewards Tyson for his brutality. It the society that told him "Be
a brute and you will be worshipped."
And it's not just the celebrities. I don't think I'm overgeneralizing
when I say ALL rich people are scum and should die. They claim to deserve
their wealth but how much work is it to inherit your uncle's millions
or sit around the water cooler discussing real estate? Work is laying
down railroad tracks with your Chinese brethren, wrestling crocodiles
in the Louisiana swamps or prostituting yourself to migrant farm workers
in Southern California. Work drains sweat from your brow, blood from
your fingers and tears from your eyes. Most of these Gucci wearing,
Oxford graduating, BMW driving Yuppies wouldn't know real work if it
came up and twisted their nipple.
I suppose you can look at one of these platinum blondes driving on
the freeway (whom you know married rich and has every concern taken
care of for them) and say "Ahh, but she'll never gain the self actualization
and spiritual understanding I've come to know through my life of struggle
and pain." But deep down, you know it's a hollow victory. The truth
is, the Ivana Trumps of this world triumph: they divorce rich and lie
around on alligator-skin lawn chairs drinking cosmopolitans served to
them by Chippendale dancers. Meanwhile, the most the Sylvia Plaths of
this world can look forward to is getting to do their best impression
of a Stouffer's Lasagna.
Don't get me wrong - I'm no commie socialist making desperate pleas
for the people to redistribute wealth, nor am I a grunge superstar advocating
a class war from my home in Malibu. I'm just a simple man, and if I
draw strength from hating and despising those around me, so much the
better. Besides, we all know I'm a hypocrite. If Mariah Carey came up
to me tomorrow and offered me a position licking the grime between her
toes, I'd jump at the opportunity (hoping that it may lead to a position
licking other parts of her body… and I think you know what I mean by
the word "position.") And then I'd waste no more time associating with
the underclass and writing rabble rousing columns such as this. Nay,
instead I'd lay around Mariah's pool, taking designer drugs and telling
Puff Daddy his new album was "mad cool!" Praying that eventually I'd
be able to forget all semblance of my former life.
See you around, suckers.
