Fact is, I’m sick of this fucking society. … I’m fatigued and angry at an administration that thinks it’s okay to lower taxes while blowing billions on the new “Homeland Security” acts, all while our economy in in the shithole and our deficit is at such a level that the human mind cannot fully comprehend the amount. Vapor-minded dipshits want to pass laws that spend even more money defending the cash that music companies make while in my home state, unemployed mothers get to pick up recyclables so that they can feed their kids. … I am witnessinng the beginning of the final decline of America, a country I still fucking love, and it fills me with a cold, icy disgust that this is the only way my daughter will ever know.
I feel your pain, brother. And your sense of helplessness.
He goes on to say, “New Orleans is looking better with each passing second of my life. It’s the one place I’ve been where politics are something that you only think about fleetingly, and life is still about living it, instead of whittling it away with the pocketknife of corporate slavery”. Ignoring, for the moment, the compelling excellence of the phrase “pocketknife of corporate slavery”, I’ve often thought that, were I to go and live in the States, I’d want to go to New Orleans. Of course, I’m not going to go and live in the States; the reason I’ve toyed with the idea of not living here is that I don’t like how uncaring and repressive it feels (whether you agree with it being so is beside the point here), and the States, I think, would feel a lot worse to me. Looks it from this side of the water, anyhow. And I’m not seeing anywhere I could go and get away from that feeling, while still being able to do what I do now; desert islands don’t have repressive governments, but they also don’t have any kind of internet infrastructure for me to work on and get paid for, either.
Maybe I should go and live on Sealand.