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Chaos... to be continued

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Notes of a dirty old man (1969)
by Charles Bukowski​

What these god-damned revolutionaries who lay around my place drinking my beer and eating my food and showing off their women must learn is that the thing must come from inside out. You just can't give a man a new government like a new hat and expect a different man inside that hat. He's still going to have chickenshit proclivities and a full belly and a complete set of Dizzy Gillespie ain't going to change that. A lot of people swear that there is going to be a revolution but I'd hate to see all those people get killed for nothing. I mean, you can kill most people and you aren't killing anything but a few good men are bound to go. And then what do you end up with: a government OVER the people. A new dictator in sheep's clothing; the ideology was only to keep the guns going.

The other night some kid told me (he was sitting in the center of the rug looking very spiritual and beautiful):

"I'm going to shut off all the sewers. the whole city will be floating in turds!"

Why, the kid had already told me enough shit to bury the whole city of L.A., and halfway up to Pasadena.

Then he said, "got another beer, Bukowski?"

His whore crossed her legs high and showed me a flash of pink panty so I got up and got the kid a beer.

Revolution sounds very romantic, you know. But it ain't. It's blood and guts and madness; it's little kids killed who get in the way, it's little kids who don't understand what the fuck is going on. It's your whore, your wife ripped in the belly with a bayonet and then raped in the ass while you watch. It's men torturing men who used to laugh at Mickey Mouse cartoons. Before you go into the thing, decide where the spirit is and where the spirit will be when it is over. I don't go with Dos — CRIME AND PUNISHMENT — that no man has a right to take another man's life. But it might take a bit of thinking first. Of course, the gall is that they have been taking our lives without firing a bullet. I too have worked for dismal wages while some fat boy has raped fourteen-year-old virgins in Beverly Hills. I've seen things I don't even want to talk about. But before you kill something make sure you have something better to replace it with; something better than political opportunist slamming hate horseshit in the public park. If you are going to pay through the nose get something better than a 36 month warranty.

As yet, I have seen nothing but this emotional and romantic yen for Revolution; I've seen no solid leader or no realistic platform to insure AGAINST the betrayal that has always, so far, followed. If I am going to kill a man I don't want to see him replaced by a carbon copy of the same man and the same way. We have wasted history like a bunch of drunks shooting dice back in the men's crapper of the local bar. I am ashamed to be a member of the human race but I don't want to add any more to that shame, I want to scrape a little of it off.
 
LaisDeMarieDeFrance said:
LOL, how did you know I was thinking "first world problems?" My sister-in-law would KILL to have a 40 hr week job that has sick pay and earns $7/hr. The highest she can go is secretary in a corporation thanks to their backwards societal issues.
Click to expand...
$7/hour? You’re joking… what is minimum wage in the USA?
 
Orchidea73 said:

Notes of a dirty old man (1969)​

by Charles Bukowski​

What these god-damned revolutionaries who lay around my place drinking my beer and eating my food and showing off their women must learn is that the thing must come from inside out. You just can't give a man a new government like a new hat and expect a different man inside that hat. He's still going to have chickenshit proclivities and a full belly and a complete set of Dizzy Gillespie ain't going to change that. A lot of people swear that there is going to be a revolution but I'd hate to see all those people get killed for nothing. I mean, you can kill most people and you aren't killing anything but a few good men are bound to go. And then what do you end up with: a government OVER the people. A new dictator in sheep's clothing; the ideology was only to keep the guns going.

The other night some kid told me (he was sitting in the center of the rug looking very spiritual and beautiful):

"I'm going to shut off all the sewers. the whole city will be floating in turds!"

Why, the kid had already told me enough shit to bury the whole city of L.A., and halfway up to Pasadena.

Then he said, "got another beer, Bukowski?"

His whore crossed her legs high and showed me a flash of pink panty so I got up and got the kid a beer.

Revolution sounds very romantic, you know. But it ain't. It's blood and guts and madness; it's little kids killed who get in the way, it's little kids who don't understand what the fuck is going on. It's your whore, your wife ripped in the belly with a bayonet and then raped in the ass while you watch. It's men torturing men who used to laugh at Mickey Mouse cartoons. Before you go into the thing, decide where the spirit is and where the spirit will be when it is over. I don't go with Dos — CRIME AND PUNISHMENT — that no man has a right to take another man's life. But it might take a bit of thinking first. Of course, the gall is that they have been taking our lives without firing a bullet. I too have worked for dismal wages while some fat boy has raped fourteen-year-old virgins in Beverly Hills. I've seen things I don't even want to talk about. But before you kill something make sure you have something better to replace it with; something better than political opportunist slamming hate horseshit in the public park. If you are going to pay through the nose get something better than a 36 month warranty.

As yet, I have seen nothing but this emotional and romantic yen for Revolution; I've seen no solid leader or no realistic platform to insure AGAINST the betrayal that has always, so far, followed. If I am going to kill a man I don't want to see him replaced by a carbon copy of the same man and the same way. We have wasted history like a bunch of drunks shooting dice back in the men's crapper of the local bar. I am ashamed to be a member of the human race but I don't want to add any more to that shame, I want to scrape a little of it off.
Click to expand...
a sad truth.
 
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