Requiem for Satan

Time to reorganize, ladies and gentlemen. The new theme is “rehumanize yourself”. The Police (for the young folks, this is the group Sting had before he was the old dude your mother likes) sang it right, which is where I get the name from. Rehumanize Yourself. As in, stop being so freaking stupid and greedy and myopic and turn the wealth of Life toward keeping life livable for every-freaking-body. War, famine, pestilence and avarice—be gone!

See, here’s what I’ve found out. Why we’re unhappy? It’s not the Devil. Everything bad in the entire world is because people don’t like their lives. Period. Humans are the most unhappy twits in the world. The asshole texting who caused a three car pileup killing everybody but himself because he needs a certain image to feel worth the air he breathes can’t stand himself. The asshole executive in a useless industry whose arrogance is the complete set including midlife crisis and trophy skank, the one who has to berate wait staff with the six saddest, most stupid words ever strung together: “Do you know who I am?” That guy shouldn’t have opened his eyes in the morning. Death isn’t always a tragedy. That guy can’t stand himself. He doesn’t even know who he is. (For the record, anybody having to voice the words ‘Do you know who I am?’—the answer, no matter which way it goes, will not please you.)

We’re unhappy because we’re dishonest with ourselves, with our wives, with our husbands, particularly with our kids, with jobs we can’t stand, with neighbors we don’t want to see, and especially with our lord god savior Jesus Buddha Christ. Hell, how many folks is this true of: we wake up in the morning wishing for death’s sweet embrace but at the first human face what do we say? “Good morning.” Talk about keeping hope alive.

So in order to rehumanize myself, I have put away a few fears. Fear of success—and that’s a real fear, because a lot of people become successful and become utter assholes; granted there were kernels of ass in them already but success tends to exacerbate things—fear of loss, fear of failure even. Strange dichotomies abound. Anybody who’s read more than 2 of these blogs knows I love music. Here are some words from the U2 song ‘Stuck in a Moment That You Can’t Get Out Of’: “I am not afraid of anything in this world. There’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t already heard. I’m just trying to find a decent melody, a song that I can sing in my own company.” Or thereabouts. Sometimes I might get a few words wrong in a lyric here and there. For years I’ve thought Michael Jackson was belting out “Strong is hot funky” in ‘Beat It’. Point is, fear creates aggression, which creates tension, which creates assholes. Military assholes, political assholes, pop cultural assholes, job market assholes. Fear creates huge, honking pointless wastes of time.

Honestly? I’m sick of it. If I was Jesus I would bitch slap so many of y’all into eternity it ain’t funny. Do the Bernie Mac ‘Head of State’ reach-down-to-the-ground smack. And just keep walking. So I’m looking at life that way, smacking the hell out of fears, anxieties and irrationalities.

Which means I finally got off my ass and published a book. Marketing 101 says I should have mentioned that from the get go, but I’m not here for that. It’s an ebook only. If you buy the book, fine. I’d love to sell a million copies, put some serious money in my niece’s college fund, and wake up naturally every day. Title is NEON LIGHTS, it’s a satire on publishing in general and black publishing in particular, it’s cheap, and links are here www.Amazon.com and here Barnes & Noble. Free apps on both sites for reading on PC, laptop or whatever device. The book itself is not as important as me actually getting off my ass and publishing it my damn self. It’s made the short rounds of potential traditional publishers and agents. Got nibbled on, got passed up. No hard feelings anywhere. But a friend said “Jed, take that book and move away from there.” Said “Pubit and Kindle are the places you wanna be,” so I uploaded my goofy book and I published it for free (almost, that is; $2.99, less than Starbucks coffee or tea).

It’ll be bought by 7 people. But on a grand scheme I’m looking at life differently. That pervasive, silent scream shrouding the earth is audible as ever…but it’s nothing I haven’t already heard. It won’t keep me from doing what I need to do. I was born human and by damn I’ll die human. And I might be full of too many sins but if I’m going to hell for Original sin I’ll keep some other beautiful sinner good company. Some simple human soul whose ego is under control. Somebody human. Somebody who can stop being who they are…in order to be who they are.

So no more labeling these as the days of the Lord. Here’s to the human in me. May he reign over the earth forever.

I have always wanted to be a published writer. I just never factored myself into the equation as the one doing the publishing. Honest.