The Drug Jouissance
12:30 AM. The world’s going to shit. CNN said so; cross-checked with Fox. The world’s going to shit real fast. The dizzied billions of perspectives on this little planet coincide for one brief moment and exhale their grief, arms upraised, as the few hedonists chant in reply to the moralists, “I told you, you wasted yourselves.” Sade’s psychopathic numerology was spot on: his esotericas and eroticas of misery taught generations of people how to suffer ever better than before, allay themselves with spirits, sacrifice their consciences on the altar of rectitude. The chant continues: “The dismal patriarchy rules us, rules us” as a busload of Coptic schoolchildren in Hurghada mutter prayers at a roadblock. “Will we meet Him?” Children, He is painted on the gun-stocks. In São Paulo a tenured, wearied, alcoholic psychiatrist lectures spoiled intellectuals of enormous privilege on the dynamics of the passions: “The pleasurable nuisance persists. How to eradicate it and whence its resolution? Laws are metaphysical but the brain is collectively solid.” Below his godless seminary a twenty-seven year old narcoleptic falls asleep at the wheel and crushes a single mother underneath his car. “My dealer was dry that day, I had to make do with coffee.” Her son, aggrieved at the concatenation of evils which disguise themselves as natural life, spends his formative years meditating on casuistry, grows up, moves to Apple Valley to live with relatives, and, smirking, shoots a Jesuit priest he thinks he recognizes from his youth just in time to make the news.