Messianic Rant

I’ve heard people – and invariably with gleaming, voluptuous pride – gladly call themselves a ‘the glass is half full’ kind of person. First of all: baloney! And secondly: a very foolish pride, wouldn’t you agree? The statement itself is fallacious, and the pride erroneous, because it is based on the false assumptions that dissidents of this doctrine 1. have a morally lower standpoint and 2. see the glass as being half empty as if the water level is on its way down… on the way of being completely empty. This is not the case, but contrary: they themselves see the water as a diminishing body!

I don’t say ‘the glass is half empty’ (meaning: on its way to emptiness). I say ‘why isn’t the glass completely full?’ Móre than full even! Far beyond the limits of the glass itself… infinitely full, over the brim and into the great unknown! And a bigger glass! And better, not even in the same league as common glass! And of far superior content. And a glass with water not just enough for me… but for all of mankind!

Your typical militant optimist, the maudlin gospeller of ‘The Glass is Half Full’ is not so much happy with his glass and or its content. Oh no: he is extremely happy with one thing above all… himself! ‘The glass is half full’ is a self-compliment of the worst kind! And to add injury to the insult: it’s an infamous blaming of the rest of the world to suggest them being less thankful for the bounty they have received! It’s like telling a one-armed man to stop feeling sorry for himself as long as he’s got the other one in reasonably good working order.

I’m not proud to see all these shortcomings of life on earth and looking for improvement… And I’m not here to blame. Remember that. All I’m writing for is that I don’t care for being called a miser and an idiot by people without imagination. You say you’re fine with your half glass… Okay. I hear you. But I don’t believe you, first of all. And what if half of that half glass is poured into a smaller glass… is that second glass half full again? Well, let’s say it is and you call it ‘half full’ and you’re satisfied again… I may be too (as I have little needs, littler than most of you I take it!), but that is not the point! The point is: I will never call it half full with a smug grin on my face, proud of my false evangelical, ascetic sainthood, like you do! A tepid windy day with a cold drizzle… you’re free to call it ‘fine whether’? But I don’t. And neither do you… let’s be honest.

You settle for three-coloured pansies. Why not five-coloured ones? Or seven? Why not multi-coloured pansies that sing & dance… break, folk, tap & lap dancing pansies! Pansies that make weather forecasts and fill out your taxes? Pansies that sing the gospel and do the boogaloo? Pansies that turn into tulips one day… into roses the next… the next into peonies… and then into blue whales with seventy seven beautiful soft warm breasts that produce slightly chilled Drambuie? Have you tried Drambuie? It’s delicious! I don’t look down on three-coloured pansies, but I am realistic about them. That’s the point I’m making.

Why settle for oom-pah music when you can have Chopin? Why shrug your shoulders about two-faced, half arsed politicians, greed, race hatred, war, light beer, child labour and this daily horror picture slide show of mental haemorrhoids we call a social network? Dream Up, not Down! Come on, people! Why no golden flowers full of naked elves cracking jokes who give you directions to where you really want to go... in several convenient languages... with a complimentary city map, coupons to your favourite restaurant and scratch tickets? And a real smart phone! A sensible philosophy, picked up by everybody. Real progress, real improvement… But no… you’re fine with it and count your blessings as the rats are climbing from the sewers into the houses. Perhaps not your house… You can eat your cookie while babies are bombed in faraway dusty cities. Cheers. And you’re even proud of your view and say I’m a miser…

I say you’re no optimist: you’re just a very small thinker!

Butterflies with gold brocade wings, making sweet xylophone music as they fly and giggle… bees that, while they sting, inject high doses of endorphins… silver streets with angels gently tickling your balls most delicately… No more depressing, rain-drenched cul-de-sacs smelling like wet dog, littered with hobos and chip bags. No more ‘talent shows’ on TV. Sex & drugs for everybody! And, if it’s not too much to ask, a government based on wisdom, tolerance and generosity for all.

Are you a real optimist… or are you just devoid of dreams? Do you call ‘half’ some sort of optimum? Is your complacency so big, or just your fantasy so small? You say the glass is half full… you say that life is good. Then I say: you don’t know me and you don’t know good.

The glass is half full…
The war is half won
The brain is half working
The book is half interesting
The deal is semi-legitimate
Humanity is half saved by Jesus
The football is half over the goal line
The man is half continent
And half his teeth were saved
Half the orphanage was saved from the flames…

Yippee! That’s what I hear you saying when you say that your glass is half full. And you call my glass half full too. So… what about someone else’s glass? You’re no optimist… you’re selfish… self-complimenting… and a terrible pessimist! Yes, I’ve said it! You’re seeing things as starting from nothing, expecting nothing, wanting nothing and you pretend you’ll be chuffed with half a finger of putrid water, just for you, yourself, your own material gain… instead of seeing things from a divine ideal for all to enjoy. Go out of my sight with your half full glass… and take my half too! You can have it.

(Writing this, I was half serious.)