Everything is useless
Nothing works at all
Nothing really matters
Welcome to the fall
--from "The Fall", off of Filth Pig, by Ministry, ©1996 Luxa/Pan Productions.
Also, file this one under "You prob'ly think this one's not about you, don't you, don't you, don't you?"
"You're just so sublime, aren't you. Well fuck sublime. I don't want dainty little moments of insight. I want everything and I want it now. I want to be ice-picked on the head by a herd of angry cheerleaders. Angry cheerleaders on drugs. You don't get that, do you? I want action. I want to be radiator steam hissing on the cement of the Santa Monica freeway after a thousand-car pile up--with acid rock from the smashed cars roaring in the background. I want to be the man in the black hood who switches on the air raid sirens. I want to be naked and windburned and riding the lead missle of a herd heading over to bomb every little fucking village in New Zealand. Just go to hell. You and your superior attitude. We're all lapdogs. I just happen to know who's petting me. But hey--if more people like you choose not to play the game, it's easier for people like me to win."
--A mildly edited-down transcription of my very favorite bit in one of my favorite books, Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture, by Douglas Coupland. ©1991 Douglas Coupland