Charlie Brooker at al-Guardian, naturally:
I read a magazine yesterday and suddenly truly understood in my bones that human civilisation will die screaming in our lifetime.
It happened on the toilet. I was reading a copy of the free magazine Sky send to all their subscribers. Visually inhaling crap at one end, rectally exhaling it at the other; my corporeal self a mere conduit for the elemental crapforce that binds the universe together. I have all the spirituality of a doorframe. This is as close as I get to a religious experience.
Either that’s an Elvis reference or the title to a long-lost Agatha Christie novel.
I’m sorry, but I can’t help laughing. Mr. Brooker is earnetly, intensly strident, yet he remains a pathetic washed up twit spending his time grumbling away behind his copy of Sky. A Comrade Blimp, as it were.
As usual, a nugget of truth.
Yes, all of that effort and he only produced a solitary nugget.
Sad, really.
He needs to get more mental fiber in his intellectual diet.
Here I sit,
feeling naught but dejection,
wanted to jack-off,
but lacked an erection.
You’re probably a homosexual in that case.
In that case, feel free to go ahead and step off Mr. Brooker. The rest of us will carry on.
Yeah. Spit or get off the pot.
Is he talking about Vonnegut’s “Grand Ah-Whoom”, the “universal shit-storm” that ends the world?
For some reason, the words of a fellow countryman of his come to my mind:
A healthy bowel movemment is an epiphany all its own.
So does it follow that if he were to read selections from, say, Shakespeare, whilst defecating on his crapper, that his end product would smell as sweet?
As I was once told, in a completely different context, “Use the big head for thinking.”
”…not the turtlehead.”