Vonnegut

20 Jul

Q:What's the white stuff in Bird Poop?  A: Well that's Bird Poop too.

Q:What's the white stuff in Bird Poop? A: Well that's Bird Poop too.

Just got through reading Slaughter house Five for the second time in my life.

I feel like it was a wasted attempt the first time I read it. I was 21 when I first read it and it was my first Vonnegut book.

Looking back on things, I’d have been better off by starting on Player Piano, or Bluebeard, maybe even Breakfast of Champions, but Slaughterhouse Five can’t be truly digested without having some sort of intimate knowledge of Vonnegut and his work.

It was a completely different experience this time around. The first time I did it , I just thought it was weird. But now I understand.

What struck me this time around was how funny it was, hilarious, tawdry, and most of all, touchingly human.

I love reading Vonnegut because of his down to earth, matter of fact style. He was a real rule breaker by taking chances with characters and plot lines, and even went as far as to insert himself into many of his novels.

The craziest thing to think about is the fact that he survived the fire bombing in Dresden. All those 130,000 plus people who died and the few who survived were ironically saved by a structure that served to kill many of the oxen, pigs, and cattle in that area.

I can’t imagine coming up and seeing what he saw. It seemed like it was the most profound experience of his life. So many of his books deal with WWII and a survivor’s mentality.

Elements of that event pervade Bluebeard, Mother Night, even. How could anyone look at life the same after miraculously surviving the biggest massacre in world history?

Then of course, Hiroshima and Nagasaki came after the Dresden bombing.

The world is such an evil place. To think that some people are so wicked that they’d beat a 14 year old boy to death for whistling at his ugly assed, rat faced wife (i’m sure somewhere up there Emmett would love a mulligan on that one–certainly wasn’t a regular ass beating over) , then laugh about it after being acquitted and sticking his tongue down his ulgy wife’s gullet (pure fucking evil).

to think of all the people who run these corporations that lay off 1,000’s upon 1,000’s of people so they can make an extra million or two.

We live in a world of serial killers. Not Gacy and Ted Bundy types, but something way worse, and even more sinister. Serial killers do it for the sheer joy of killing, these fuckers are just sociopaths looking for an extra buck.

Dressed up in suit and ties, determining the fates of millions of people without blinking an eye. We elect these people, shake their hands, and give them the power to affect our lives.

We’re talking bankers, CEO’s, Senators, Governors, and Presidents.

It makes you ask the question of who’s really the sick ones here? Are masochists? Or are we sheep? Or is it really way more complicated than “the world trying to commit suicide.”

Its stuff like this that makes me admire Vonnegut and his writing so much. No matter how dark the subject, he takes a drag of his Pall Mall and makes a joke that points out the absurdity of our existence. Is it or isn’t real?

This bizarre trip we got going on here. Perhaps its better just to do your best, love those around you, and hope that the ripple effect ensues. Maybe the best way is to ensure that every interaction counts, smile more, laugh harder and embrace those tender and sweet moments of joy.

Even in the darkest of times, a sense of humor will get you far.

cuz maybe its just too absurd to take that seriously anyway.

imagine taking this thing way too seriously to find out it was all a silly little dream.
So it goes.

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