The tale of Johnny cockroach.

in bullying •  3 years ago 

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Well, when our history is written by the evolved cockroaches that come after us, they will scratch their antennae and wonder how we could be so stupid.

Johnny cockroach has no ego. They aren't threatened by a kid in a dress or a neighbour who wants to hang out with somebody else for a change (after you'd been bullying and brutalising them for a century).

They just want to grab a meal, hang out with their friends playing games, sit on the sofa watching Netflix and Disney Plus and have as much sex as possible with other cockroaches who also want to have sex with them. Or not, if that's the way you hang.

How hard is that?

We are taught about war in the playground. The pointless futility of standing your ground. Of standing up for what you believe in, beaten to a pulp by a bigger boy because what he believes in is beating you to a pulp. His friends believe in that too, because they would rather he beat you to a pulp then beat them to a pulp. It's not a fair fight. It never was.

Teachers sometimes break it up.

But now you are looking over your shoulder outside the school gates, knowing that these are the only boundaries a bully knows. Johnny cockroach sees all this. What the fuck, buddy he is saying. Find that thing to bring you together. Find that spark so you can talk about your pain and let it flow over you, pass through you.

Even at the end of the day a teacher has no power. You can't teach somebody who refuses to learn. We are all Gregor Samsa - that's the secret. Its right there, in a text we used to teach at school.

I'm a futurist. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. That doesn't seem like a good thing to be right now.

Why not brighten somebody's life today by telling them how much they mean to you. How much better your life has been for them being in it.

Like you, reading this.

Your happiness is important to me. Your prosperity. Your security. Your self determination and self worth. Fuck Greg Abbot. Fuck Vladimir Putin. Our future cockroach overlords piss on their monuments and their memory.

Now, who fancies a round of Cockroach Poker?

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