Well the hangover has finally worn off and having now emerged bleary eyed and hopeful, 2011 seems to have kicked off to a spectacular start. Once again, any faith in the New Year improving on any of the nonsense the previous year had to offer has been totally unfounded. Naïve I know. How are we to expect anything better, given the sorry state of affairs that reached its culmination but a few short weeks ago? The year kicked off with a political and economic situation so fucked to present as a solution not one, but a momentous union of two absolutely feckless upper class moron leaders who inspire, at best apathy, and at worst the desire to massacre the pair of them. Or at least cut off their expense accounts and make them go and live with the poor people. God forbid. The best hope we have so far is that they’ll manage to raise education fees to the extent that eventually no one will be informed enough to understand the intricate and self serving motives behind whatever it is they manage to screw up next.
It also seems to be a year in which everyone has lost faith in any modern relationship having even a hopeful and underlying chance of survival. Monogamy and lasting love seem to be a quaint fifties notion, cemented by the fact that most couples had to stay together bonded by financial necessity. This is a situation the current government seems keen to replicate by economically penalising those who mess up their relationships. To err is human. To financially castrate is divine. Apparently.
But hey, it’s not like any other applicable solution seems to have presented itself. Why not look backwards with rose tinted glasses (the modern addition may now be rose tinted 3D specs, although the fifties also had the 3D cinematic phenomenon sorted I believe) if the only alternative is to look forward into a world where having failed to distract ourselves with nightmarish fairy tales of potential terrorists lurking around every corner, the only distraction we now have is watching ‘celebs’ eating kangaroo bollocks in a fake jungle setting or the X Factor. I mean, who cares about relationships or politics when we can ponder whether or not Cheryl Cole will get her tattoos removed or if she’s screwing some dancer.
We can’t even afford to drown our sorrows down the pub anymore. So down to Tesco for some tinnies and back to the sofa it will have to be. And what are we urged to do in order to change this situation? Get famous. No one gives a damn how. Get your tits out maybe. Sing Over the Rainbow. Tell the Sun just how much Meow Meow messed up your life. Or ketamin messed up your kidneys. Or seek out the next fashionable drug to sweep the streets, name it something catchy and ban it without bothering to listen to any researchers on the matter. Just make sure the sensationalist media is listening. We don’t need research. Sod investigative journalism. We have Wiki Leaks or the anonymously tipped rumour mill to keep us going. Maybe try and catch some callous nutter chucking a cat in a bin on CCTV. Everyone will quickly forget about the larger tragedies and corruption the world.
The moral to 2011 seems to run thus; Don’t think, don’t expect anything to last, and for God’s sake don’t expect any of it mean anything. It’s not the modern mantra to strive for any substance. Unless a token glance into some Eastern spirituality will ease your conscience and give you a fleeting sense of purpose – do yoga or a meditation class for a couple of weeks. It is January and therefore time to resolve to try, and the rapidly fail at committing to something after all. We just need to keep chasing our fifteen minutes. Or money. Or just buy something. Or try for better looks. That’ll make us happy. And we can chase the dream for longer now that we can fill our faces with botox. No one will know the difference. If you pick that route they wont even see the frown lines or the pain and emptiness in your eyes at having failed so miserably to achieve a goal that was an ephemeral fallacy in the first place.
We’ll all be so beautiful that you wont even notice the pointlessness of it all.
