To see adults give up and conform to ready-made societies and their little sub-identities. As a kid you do see it—the fakery, the pain disguised as some esteemed meme or air. To see faces (attitudes) plainly invented by actors on TV on the faces of people you know is chilling and worthy of contempt. Invasion of the Body Snatchers isn’t just science fiction. It’s real—because people’s personalities are grown by mimesis, and the pods are televisions.
When you were a kid and you and your best friend saw a flaw in Separate Power—a parent, a teacher, a cop, a politician, a news anchor, a televangelist—you wanted to laugh. Having dinner with fake adults and withholding laughter while exchanging knowing glances with my best friend was my favorite activity.
INPUT: See fakery or flaw in an oppressor. Share the awareness with your friend.
OUTPUT: Infinite joy and suppressed laughter.
Agreement about the flaw makes the flaw real and your judgment valid. What’s better than ontologically negating the oppressor while being right about something that others cannot even see? None. None more black.
Now, after a lifetime of pain, I myself have started faking a feasible facade of self-esteem to look good. Pain has made me a weak, needy, and fake-ass person. Next thing you know, the young’uns will secretly point at my and my fake-ass fakery.
Lusty life laughs at losers.