Friendship is nice...

Its okay y’know, that feeling you get inside when things are going really badly for the closest of your friends.

You know the feeling; excitement, joy, pleasure, whatever… it’s all natural, honest.

The thing is, none of us really like each other, we just have an over riding instinct to form a pack, rather then go it alone.

This can be only explanation for all the groups of cunts you see at the pub on a Friday night.

As a society, we fear the solo, in fact we hate them. That is why we make them figures of perverted evil, perpetrators of violent crimes, murders of our children and worse still, meddlers of our dogs.

They are loners, kiddie fiddlers, Unabomber’s, outsiders, miscreants, foreigners, whatever...

Think about it for a second.

Go on…

I know its painful, but give it a go.

I know you hate thinking for yourself these days, it just seems so unnecessary doesn’t it?

I mean, why think for yourself when we have all these things to prevent the act of independent thought; television, the obvious main culprit, movies to make you forget who you are for a couple of hours (why do you think theatres go black? makes us focus more – ignore the outside world). Booze, to shut it down thought entirely, and if we do feel like having a crafty think, we tend to put on some tunes, which react with the conditioning we have received from childhood to create artificial emotional reactions.

You what?

Okay simple example;

Beethoven’s - Ode to Joy – Wow, suddenly I feel jubilant. I’m great!

The Smiths - How soon is now? – I feel like killing myself, I’m shit.

Any Weezer tune – I feel like dressing well, ain’t The Gap grand?

Anyway, what was I ranting about? Oh yes, friends.

All friends are evil fuckers waiting for you to fail so they can feel useful for once in their lives.

“Oh that’s awful, he didn’t call you for a week? Well you know what? It’s his loss.”

“She was old, her time had come, she had a full life and she died knowing she was loved by you and the family.”

“No, that colour suits you.”

“You should go to the hospital before the Police, what with it bleeding like that, you’ll need medical attention. Otherwise how will you be able to sit and watch Big Brother with me?”

They fucking love it. It gives them a purpose. It makes them feel better than you and better about themselves.

“I may be a child molesting, crack peddling, homicidal manic, and Tory MP, but at least I’m not my mate Dave; he really is a loser”.

You fail they glow; they fail you glow.

They have some success, win money, get a promotion, or go out with that good-looking guy or gal and you feel sick to your stomach with jealously.

Stop lying to yourself; admit it. Scratch the surface and there you have it; you really hate them and you want them to fail.

But, they never do, at least not as much as you would like.

And why is that?

Because we shed ourselves, pretty fast of friends who do fail, because after the first couple of schadenfreude moments we are sick of them;

“I always thought he was to good-looking for you; you look like a raped asshole with your retarded application of foundation barely covering your boil ridden cheeks”

“She was an evil old witch who outlived her welcome the instant your child molesting Father came in your pig thick whore of a Mother”

“No colour looks good on boiled flesh skin, other than death shroud black, and even then most people will assume you are the resurrected dead”

Do you get it? Do you see the truth in what I say?

Huh?