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I’m not perfect. Neither are you. On a bad day you could argue that even Mother Theresa was just a selfish slag who only did good deeds to get into Heaven. For all of us without that particular inclination, things are much more transparent.
We light couches on fire, get in bar fights, and drink plastic top liquor. At our core, we’re all terrible. Why, then, is it so natural to denounce our inner monster? Probably because everyone’s preaching about how we need to stand around holding Free Hugs signs and sing Kumbaya to strangers. Is that really the way to keep pushing humanity into the future? Now, more than ever, we need to flaunt our basic human trashiness.
Trashy stuff is fun. More than that, it’s natural. Shotgunning warm light beer and spiking the can is lightyears more human than walking slack lines in cruelty-free Birkenstocks. Our ancestor Man the Hunter would be furious if he saw some doped-up hippie handing out pamphlets that discredited leatherworkers. He’d probably peg that loser in the chest with a spear and then go have a beer with his buddy in the suit. That’s because, like the rest of us, Man the Hunter existed to fuck shit up. Those mammoths were in a position of total power, what with the thick hides and the massive feet. Not one to give up easily, our ancient brothers sharpened some rocks and beat those overconfident pachyderms into warm clothes and tasty stews. It wasn’t the sweetest thing to do but it was sure as hell better than eating roots and hiding underground. That prehistoric trashiness set a foundation that lets us get our knobs slobbed with one right swipe. Thanks, Andrew Luck’s dad.
In the modern world, being shitty breaks us out of our vicious fluff cycle. Tucked between vehement segments attacking political groups and covering house fires, the media is churning out positive crap. “Look how this brave mother confronted her child’s bully” and other tripe is just as popular as a “fitness” model’s tweet of her gaping anus. The difference is that only one of those topics is honest. Those feel-good stories only exist to get shares from people who want to hide the fact that, at their core, they would rather be staring down a brownish-grey tunnel of love.
Applauding a person for being decent doesn’t make you good; it just makes you a coward cheering from the bushes. You didn’t swing on that kid’s bully. You were too busy scrolling through pictures of buttholes on your morning commute. Stop acting like you’re any better than the guy with a sick rat tail sharing every post from “420 Incorporated” because of what you put on Facebook.
I’m not saying people should be throwing rocks at school buses. That transcends trashiness to a point of borderline evil. Cooking meth in your tool shed is a hell of a lot different than doing shots and tackling a mouthy townie. Just stop repressing your natural inclination to raise hell in favor of being a sweetheart. The sooner we, as future world leaders, can cast off the shackles of overzealous decency, the sooner we can move past this dark period of oversensitive horse shit.
For the sake of our society, start letting your inner garbage person come out to play..