EVERY ABSURDIST HAS HIS LIMITS
by Joe Buonfiglio
Russian espionage and collusion. Deep State leaking. Sexual deviancy. Special Counsel. Nuclear saber-rattling. Violent protests. White supremacists and the Ku Klux Klan….
NAZIS, FOR CHRIST’S SAKE!
All dancing in the Tiki torchlight with the freakin’ President of the United States?
Are you fucking kidding me?!
How the hell is a humble Literary Absurdist such as myself supposed to compete with that insanity, that level of absolute and all-consuming absurdity?
The answer is simple: I CAN’T! I just cannot. It isn’t possible. And so, I won’t even try. Until the denizens of these United States decide to jump off the Trump Train to Crazytown, I’m on sabbatical. Because when politicians and the “common man” start getting better at the meaningless and random nature of existence than the professional and practiced artisans in the field of the philosophically bizarre, it’s time to hang up one’s mantle of farcicality.
Yes, my compatriots in the realm of surreality, until that time when I can resume my place as an apprentice of the great Albert Camus and can once more embrace the absurd essence of the human condition in a manner befitting a practitioner of the existentially ludicrous, I leave you with this:
I’m afraid that’s all I can muster these days.
Everybody loves The Stooges.
© 2017 Joseph P. Buonfiglio All Rights Reserved.