Fellow earthlings hang. Excited hearts now pump faintly their last drops of life as blood flows a river inside the abattoir. White-robed overlords oversee with heartless glee the demand the people place upon them.
It’s what humans do. I get it, now.
The government gets it. Man, do they ever.
Hunters, anglers, trappers all get it, and they get it well.
Every flesh-eater gets it; they cause it, abnormally so, and to their liking.
The slaughterhouse business is a boom, and they get, and take it all the way to the bank, who gets it.
The prison system gets it, with itchy fingers can’t wait.
Cops and soldiers get it, they signed up to get it.
Kill. Kill. Kill, for fuck’s sake.
It’s everywhere, and it’s 24/7/365.25.
No big deal, right? I get it.
But hey, let a news story break, a tragic accident, a natural catastrophe, shooting, people killed, animals hurt. An empathetic twinkle sparks inside an otherwise numb-skull, and suddenly the Androids get all emotional, teary eyed. Heartfelt.
What the hell?
Somebody got killed.
Nobody. That’s who.
After their obligatory sorrow drowns in its evanescent grief, everything’s hunky-dory. Enervated emotions are restored. Now back to the business of kill and let kill until the next spate of death hits the public airwaves. Then guess what? Suddenly sparked, fleeting superficialities ignite once again with an emasculated flare-up.
Why bother with silly transitory sentiment?
It’s what humans do, by fuck. They KILL!
Killing, a tradition we can’t live without, by participating within.