Despite how enchantingly honorable you may try to make it seem, the chintzy moral fabric that makes up your ethical wardrobe is more repugnant than the smell of the Chinese sweatshop from whence it came. Now I've seen some outlandish adornments - I'm a musician, for Christ's sake - but as far as hypocrisy, slavishness and intellectual swindling go, your get-up takes the cake. And eats it, too.
At first glance, the uneducated eye would say you were a lover: you loathe war on principle, are contemptuous of all that evidences great power and strength - you even abstain from eating meat, out of fear that your bacon or beefsteak might once have been conscious of its abysmal standard of living. Every manifestation of conflict (even the mere possibility thereof) incites your moral indignation, and would probably reduce you to [crocodile] tears if brought up in conversation. Now I will grant you this, that the ability to shed those tears prevents me from going as far as to say that you're soulless beneath all that frou-frou - it's just that your soul's been horribly misplaced.
Take, for instance, your bourgeoning, overwhelming, gushing-forth-like-Old-Faithful love for animals. Psychiatrists of late have diagnosed similar sentiments as "bestiality," and usually attempt to redirect their patients' errant emotional complex back towards their own species. Not to say that I've never seen you in coitus with a lapdog - an amusing mental image though it may be - but the fact that you can treat your husband like one gives me good reason to believe that your interests do lie somewhere near/around that playing field. That is, of course, assuming that someone as frigid as yourself does copulate from time to time.
And this point brings me right to the one I'm trying to make: that neither you, nor anyone else in this post-modern apocalypse, can "dress up" your general contempt for humanity and expect it to pass for "love." As far as power struggle and war go, anyone with half a brain can see that they are not only necessary for mankind, but inherent in his nature - we don't even need to open that can of worms. What concerns me, and needs to be addressed, is your continual looking-down, your "moral superiority complex" that stems from the simple fact that you know how to string four letters together [l-o-v-e] to form a word - and that you use this to justify your hollow-man ethics. Please admit - and for all to hear! - that this word means absolutely nothing in your mouth; for if it did, you would be helping all of us "down below" rise up to your heights, because that is what a lover does. But you...you prefer rather to poke and prod us, disillusion and confuse us, and tell us that we're bad - and when you finally have us all chasing our tails, wondering how in the hell we'll ever repent for all the "hate" we've bred, you blame our confusion on "the inherent worthlessness of the world." Well I guess I'm wondering, if the world is so inherently worthless, why do you worry so much about it? Why all the moralizing? Why all the "activism"? Why so serious?
Now I'm impressed, of course, that you've been able to achieve such a manipulative, malicious clairvoyance: it's something every human being should envy, and you can be sure that my jealousy is not overshadowed by my respect. I only want you to know - and all those like you as well - that I can see right through the clouds of rhetoric that you call "love." In fact, all I can see is a frightened, self-conscious, resentful little bitch, who shouldn't need someone like me to tell her that fear and resentment don't get along so well with Love. You're going to need to find some new clothes, honey - the sixties are dead, and smelling something awful.
Yours in a nutshell,
Nicholas Penske
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