I hold most of the human race in low regard. I don’t expect much of them and they rarely disappoint my dearth of expectations.
In fact, people, by and large, recede from my lowest expectations.
I’m old enough, seasoned enough, mature enough, that I don’t treat people badly, nor do I judge them vainly. They just are. As am I.
I coexist with them out of convenience and duty and self-survival, but it is not a glorious love affair. After my daily obligation is ended, I run home while avoiding them as much as I can (try sitting on a crowded train in such a manner that you retreat entirely from the swarm that surrounds you…I do), and once here, I exhale, smile, eat my simple dinner, log on the damn internet, and enjoy my isolated banishment.
People never disappoint my low opinions because of the depths to which they march like simple, disconnected, robotic sheep.
I expect so much more from them. They have so much money, so much time, so much leisure, so much joy, so much comfort. So much food! Surely they have the spiritual and emotional surplus to focus on being better people, to lead lives rich in thought, fulsome in examination of their inner god of excellence and philosophy, to detach from crude avarice and malign consumerism.
Americans should strive to a higher layer of ethereal existence. They should surmount the travails of common, dirt-dwelling, knuckle-dragging beastliness.
They have the world in their hands!
They are human and merely exude the filth of humanity from behind the glittery shield of niceties and civilized modernity. This grand society, this beacon of extravagance called America, has not changed human nature, only magnified its disgrace. Americans have taken a big pile of shit and decorated it with jewels and morbid tales of excellence.
H.L. Mencken knew what was up.
And those Americans, silly Americans, suckers for a good show, suckers.