“Life is so much better when you simply stop caring
what the dregs of the earth think about you.”—In Mala Fide
Consider all the human dregs:
The losers, misfits, cads, bad eggs—
The scoundrel, liar, thief, and worm
Engendered from substandard sperm.
Think also of conformist clods
Demanding worship for the gods
Of mass opinion, common talk,
And orthodoxy’s pious squawk.
Recall how these folk always find
A way to wreck your peace of mind,
Insisting on your acquiescence
To last week’s newest obsolescence.
Imagine all the troublous strife
They stir up in the course of life—
The way they throw a monkey wrench
In well-laid plans. And what a stench
Each crackpot notion and idea
Distills into the atmosphere,
Reducing what was clean and nice
To squalid clouds of crime and vice.
Forget about these worthless scum
And the cesspools they hail from.
Work, have fun, pile wealth in heaps—
Ignore these smug, obtrusive creeps,
For losers think they’re special stuff
Like grubby diamonds in the rough,
And always join the latest craze
To give their self-esteem a raise,
While righteous types, subdued and prim,
Want you to be grave and grim.
Close your nostrils to their smell—
You beat them both by living well.
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