The Critical Mass of Knowledge

I'm developing a theory. Here's the thesis:

Upon reaching a certain age, you've observed so much that everything you enounter in the future is either a derivative or facsimile of something from the past. In other words, nothing's original. It's just the same rehashed crap. Everything and everybody will remind you of something or somebody else once you've reached the Critical Mass of Knowledge.

If you're old like me, you'll agree. If you're young, you're likely to say aloud, "This fucker's whack." I'm not whack, and when you reach your thirties, you'll agree.

Those of you who've attained the Critical Mass of Knowledge have probably experienced its effects while watching television. While everybody around you is enjoying the program, you're asking yourself why this steaming pile of programming is recycling mediocre plots from the 1970s. All these CSI programs are just rehashed plots of Magnum P.I. and Matlock. All they did was ditch the Ferarri and that old dude from Maybury. If I were Tom Sellek, I'd press that moustache to the phone and start calling copyright lawyers. Again, those of you in your thirties will agree. If you're young, you'll ask, "Who the fuck is Magnum P.I.?"

I've reached Critical Mass with people, too. I know so many people that every stranger I see looks like someone I know. I want to ask everybody, "Aren't you that jerk who cut me off in traffic? Then you must be the person who short-changed me at the register? No? How about that guy who farted in the elevator and by the 39th floor most of us were in seizures? No, you're not him. Wait! I've got it. You're the fella who flashed me outside the pet groomers. Boy, it must have been cold out that day! Nice to see you again, tripod. My chiuaua is hung bigger than you."

Fashion is another choice example. You know these low-cut jeans? They're just a tube-top for the lower half: mildly arousing, but mostly sleazy. Likewise, those midriff tops are the mini-skirts of the 1960s. They just approach the muffin from differnet directions.

Consider celebrities? Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg bear resemblences to Lionel from Sanford & Son and J.J. from Good Times. George Michael? Errol Flynn. Britney Spears? Marcia Brady. See?

And because everybody reminds me of somebody else, they quickly annoy me, just like their doppelganger jerkoff predecessors. I've had my fill of somebody even before I meet him, thanks to the Critical Mass. Most of the people I know have proven themselves to be lying bastards or incorrigible pricks. So I try to avoid people. When I listen to somebody talk, I get to thinking either "this guy's full of shit," or "this guy's an incorrigible prick." So I don't listen to anybody anymore. I nod my head and think to myself, "I killed a guy just like you back in 1997 and they never found the body."

Movies, television, politicians, fashion, restaraunt themes, strangers in the grocery line -- they're all reheated leftovers. Yuck!

1 comment:

poo face said...

Haven't I heard this shit somewhere before?