An Only Slightly Jaded View

Is it just possible that you can live a long life of suffering and not gain any wisdom at all from it? And some lesson even if you do! Spend years of your life in constant misery, living like a dog, eating cold soup; years spent diving behind couches hiding from hounding, haranguing debt collectors; years cold from no fire, hot from no air conditioning, bored from no entertainment; years withered and worried away; years turning grey, watching your nose become massive and distorted whilst your body becomes shrivelled and weak; years of painful compassion, with no fun, no joy - just a vague feeling of pity and compassion and overwhelming misery; years sober, droll, and long, and at the end of it all, all you get is some kernel-sized wisdom that nobody wants to listen to anyway. Your whole life’s lesson, not worth a fucking cent.
Who wants that? Not fucking me, you see I intend on not learning anything at all; I mean, what’s the point - you can’t take your lesson with you, and little good it does you when you’ve already lived your life, and like I said, you can’t pass it on, no one in their right mind is going to listen to an old fart past their used by date. So there is no point in learning any lessons because there are none worth learning, except maybe how to play the guitar and shit like that because it can help you pick up chicks and help you become a hot shot celebrity and gain your licence to live.
And what’s the go with all this tripe the old people serve up about ‘integrity’ and ‘honesty’ and all that shit. It doesn’t help you one fucking bit. See what you’ve got to do is wangle the system any way you can, get your way to the top any fucking way you can, and don’t get caught out doing all the shit, and then when you’re a high faluting celebrity doing drugs and having sex with all the other hot celebrities, that’s when you spruke your shit and give them the spiel about how your integrity and honesty got you where you are today. What a classic!
You see honesty will get you to the same place every time, curled up on the bottom of the pile getting constantly shat upon by all the rest up top.

I’ve just got to figure out a way to break into the bourgeois. At the moment I’m just another sucker like you and ninety-nine point nine-nine percent of the population, lumped in with the proletariat, slaving away our lives doing menial jobs we don’t want to do, earning a pittance, fighting a daily battle just to pay the bills, taking orders from clowns we wouldn’t normally give the time of day to. I’ve got to get a plan of action that will get me into the top zero point oh one of the population that will give me my licence to live. Then I can let all of you suckers drive me around in limousines, open doors for me, call me sir, suck up my arse like a bunch of fools.
There are a number of options open for me, but it’s a pity I’m a male because a lot of the good ones are taken away. You see if I was a chick I’d simply bleach my hair, get some fake tits – huge walloping things which I’d barely conceal, I’d get around in the skimpiest of clothes and I’d go to a record producer with some crap song, or I’d try to get on a television commercial, or whatever. You see it doesn’t matter once the door is open, I mean half the celebrities out there people don’t even remember what it is that they are supposed to do, they just look good for the camera, get high, and shag each other. As long as you’re getting your face on the cover of Women’s Day it doesn’t fucking matter.
The other options open to me are to become part of a world famous rock and roll band, maybe as a guitarist or singer, or even bass player, but not drummer, no-one ever remembers the drummer, unless he’s only got one arm or something, like that bloke out of Def Leppard, and even then he’s only ever referred to as “that bloke with one arm”, never by his name, because he’s just the drummer. Or maybe if he gets killed, like Keith Moon. I mean I can’t even remember which band he was out of but I know he was a drummer. He did really well there, that is a very rare occurrence.
So I wouldn’t become drummer because no one knows who you are at the after show party and you’re always the last resort for a shag, and I’ll bet they make you do all the shit jobs if you’re on the road and they always threaten you with, “we can always get another drummer,” so you’d be constantly looking over your shoulder and always trying to please the others. It’d be like in that Beatles film clip where it’s raining and poor old Ringo is holding up the umbrella for the other three whilst they merrily strum their guitars, and poor old Ringo is getting soaking wet and he’s trying to smile, but you can tell he’s pissed. But I might become a guitarist because they get all the chicks and they don’t even have to sing or anything, but the only downside is you’ve got to learn the guitar and that can take some time and practice.
Which is where the next option comes in. Start up a crap boy band and sing whatever corny songs they throw at you, and get down on one knee and look really earnestly at the camera with both of your hands covering your heart, singing some lolly-pop tripe about love which the teenage girls will buy like the suckers they are. This one is relatively easy if you are a pretty boy and you’ve got three other gay looking blokes to sing with. Unfortunately, even though I’ve got feminine features I’m also told I’m an ugly bastard, so I’m a bit behind the eight ball on this one. However, people will believe whatever you tell them so just tell the world how sexy I am and everyone will believe it.