The notion of peace is a frustrating, troublesome one. The idea that people might one day stop murdering, torturing and raping each in the name of whatever symbol they've decided to huddle and masturbate under - it's a bit far-out, man. I'm not about to solve the world's problems (Though I probably could, I'm that brilliant), but I imagine that 'peace' is just another symbol in itself. It's just another idea in a book that people are spilling blood for. It'll be one thing, then the next. When one monolith falls, another will be erected and just like its former, all types of blood and semen will dry in the dirt beneath it because that's what we humans do best; kill humans. We're fantastic at it and getting better every day. I'm of the opinion that peace, if there is such a thing, starts on the inside, and if you aren't cool with who you are, your victories and your failures; how can you be cool with everyone else? Munchy, right?
When John Lennon and the worst person in the entire world decided to stay in bed for weeks on end as a protest against the Vietnam war (And war in general) in 1969, I'm not entirely sure what was going through their minds at the time. Sure, 1969 was apparently a batshit insane year anyway, but seeing images of Lennon and McWorstperson sitting on a bed in Amsterdam as a protest against the Vietnam war is simply cringe-inducing. Mainly because I honestly believe that these were the moments that gave rise to a new strand of liberal that is more (in)active today than ever; the lazy fucking piece of shit who wants things to change, but wants to usher in this change using passive-aggressive Internet memes.
Maybe this was revolutionary, maybe by having The Beatles guy and his punching bag lay in a bed together was a revolution. Maybe it did inspire minds to change, maybe people did throw down their rifles and maybe, just maybe, peace could be seen on the horizon. Realistically, none of that happened, and if it were ever to happen; a wife-beating rock star and his aggressively annoying wife sitting on a bed for weeks on end will not be the first sign of global unity. I'm probably just a bitter fucker though, because I know I'll never achieve "hair peace". There's grays popping up everywhere. At least Lennon was important enough to have a bullet pop out the back of his head, I'm just going to rot and turn silver and fat.
Regardless of what exactly achieves peace or whether or not you give a fuck if we ever achieve it, here are a number of activities that you can opt for instead of cuddling up in bed with fathomless evil for a week in Amsterdam.
Learn how to spell super good
Spelling super good is a great talent to have. If your spelling isn't super good, how're you s'posed to trick people into reading your blog? Stupid.
(Alternative take:) S-U-P-E-R G-O-O-D.
Invent something people will dig the shit out of
When was the last time someone came out with something completely mind-blowing? I don't mean another iPad app that allows you to perform fellatio on your partner from a ten mile radius. No, I don't mean a new effects pedal that can make you sound 1/4 as good as Dylan Carlson and I don't mean a new breakfast cereal that won't give you the pox. I mean something really good, like the plane or the automobile. Go, you fool, think of something cool and invent it. If not, steal someone else's idea and claim it as your own. Like that time da Vinci told everyone he invented sodomy.
Do a front flip on a trampoline
When I was a young one, this was the very measuring stick for how cool you were and if you were incapable of doing the flip, you were a useless troglodyte with no hope of anything ever. I think we should use this test in how we judge others and how we assign them in society. If you can do the flip; your options are endless, you can strive, you can fight, you can flourish, the world is literally your dirty fucking sand pit and you can soil yourself in it or build the biggest castle of them all. However, if you can't do the flip; you will spend the rest of your pitiful, halfling existence among all the other goldfish, toiling in the salt mines. Mining our salt.
Listen to the John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John Christmas album on repeat until you've got gun-mouth.
If you can make it past "Rockin' Around The Christmas Tree" without getting gun-mouth, you're made of a greater kind of steel, my friend.
Myself and a few friends came up with this concept on Thursday night. If you're up to scratch with your Japanese ritual suicide, you'll know that Seppuku is the practice in which one literally tears their guts out with a blade of some description. It's a pretty brutal way to say "Sorry guys, I'm out".
Sepoopoo is where you go into the most disgusting, vile, rancid restaurant or food outlet you can find and eat as much as you can. Eat your wallet dry, this is supposed to kill you, after all. Now, once you've had your fill of nasty seafood or some kind of bacon strip burrito, you return home for the final act in the ritual. The poopoo in the Sepoopoo. I'm not entirely sure if I need to go into further detail as to what this final act entails, but it hopefully entails entrails.