There’s Always One More Move On the Board

Are you feeling low? I am.

I can’t find a cure for this. Society tells me I am broken, but never in so many words. That would not be politically correct. I am told I might feel better if I eat some pills. Millions of years of evolution have created a specimen that requires a pill from GlaxoSmithCline to function.

I’ll feel better if I get three squares a day from the government-endorsed food groups. Canada has been revising its food groups to “meet the needs of different Canadian audiences”.  Shouldn’t the food be based on what our bodies require from an evolutionary standpoint, not how politically correct it is? How did cavemen evolve if they needed to find a loaf of bread, a head of broccoli, a jar of peanuts, and a cold glass of cow’s milk at every meal?  Did they even sit down for three meals a day?  Where did that construct come from?

So, Let’s Talk!  That’s the name of the day Bell has coined to talk about mental health issues.  That’s the day when Seth Rogan and other celebs record 30 second sound bites to let us know it’s okay to talk about it.  If you need help, that’s okay.  There is someone to talk to.

It doesn’t seem okay.  It doesn’t seem like I get treated normally when I tell people I can’t work even though I have a long list of valuable skills.  My mind just can’t take it.  I can’t take the email.  I can’t take the bureaucracy.  I can’t take the lack of common sense.  Sure there are people to talk to.  Some are free and some will charge you $100 per hour, but they can’t fix the real problem.  They can’t fix stupid.  They can’t fix society.

He’s a blamer.

That’s what my wife will sometimes say.  Blaming everyone else for my problems.  It’s my fault I’m depressed because we live in a world where we are lied to about Santa Claus, JFK, and 9/11 (false flag or not, even the “declassified” reports are highly redacted).

“He’s paranoid.”

Maybe.  When they told us to learn history so as not to repeat past mistakes, they must have meant to ignore all the parts that had our worst interests at heart.  LSD testing on children.  Operation Northwoods.  Carcinogen testing over Manitoba during the Cold War.  Thalidomide.  But that was back then.  Our governments would never do anything like that nowadays, would they?

The list goes on of shit that fills my head.  These are memories of things I’ve read, not predetermined chemical imbalances, right?

To be fair I have to reason, “maybe I do I have mental health issues?”  Nine out of ten people who know me would probably agree.  Those nine people are playing Candy Crush while I’m trying to learn how the pyramids really got built.

“Oh, is someone talking about the pyramids,” I hear someone ask, “That’s easy.  My grade five teacher told me how that was done and I haven’t given it a single thought since.”

That’s right.  Thinking too much may cause anxiety.  If you’re turning on your own light bulb instead of getting caught up on the last season of Game of Thrones, you might have a problem.  Pills, cow’s milk, and TV not settling you down?  You need sports or a sports car or a sports bra.  And some Bud Light.  A blonde with big tits.  That’ll make you feel normal.  Don’t fret over how 80-ton blocks were pushed around in the desert so long ago.

Seriously though, I’m not denying true mental illness.  I believe in science.  There are real chemical imbalances and conditions that can benefit from pills, but that’s not what I and many other people are suffering from.  I don’t believe early humans were lying in bed until noon with the covers up over their heads because Prozac wasn’t invented yet and they couldn’t find eight to ten servings of vegetables.

Those like me are hurting because their program is written for Windows 95 in they’re living in a Windows XP world.  Actually, this world is more like Millenium Edition.  They’re not locking up because their program is poorly written, it’s the operating system that’s at fault.  They’re blue-screening,  balling up and shaking because every piece of code they try to execute isn’t compatible with this world.

“That certainly sounds like mental illness to me.”

It can’t be chronic.  It didn’t start until adulthood.  When I was a child exploring the woods with a slingshot and a bag of rocks, I did not feel this way.  Outdoors.  Reality.  Nature.  Fresh air.  That’s what the world was to me.  Not Facebook and Facetime.  Not Instagram and Instapot.

The doom and gloom started when I opened my eyes.  Everything I had been told, from Santa Claus to World War II, was a lie.  I discovered careers were not made on what skills one has, but on how extroverted they could be.  The extroverts become CEOs and the introverts become unpaid stay-at-home bloggers.  Or fucked up school shooters.  Or Incels (whoever the fuck they are).

Then came the smartphone.  People who used to shun the computer because it was, “for nerds” are staring at these mini-computers 24 hours a day.  They’re not learning about the Antikythera mechanism, though.  They’re not outraged about a global pedophile ring, they’re outraged because Jordan Peterson got his picture taken with a Pepe the Frog flag.

I’ve been doing the math on my sanity for years and I’ve come to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter what position I hold, or what diet I’m on, or what pills I ingest.  As long as I’m seeing dead dolphins on one channel and Kim Kardashian on another there is no hope for happiness.

The only consolation in this mire called capitalism is that there is always one more move left on the board.  I’ll leave that up to you to figure out what it is.

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