Fucking Humanists


So I came stumbling, quite tired, out of the 5€/5€ NLHE poker game after an all-nighter, and instead of going home, I decided to take a stroll through city center. While I was walking alongside the canals, I was mulling over one of the guys I had played against. Usually, I didn’t care much about the donkeys, but this time I was kind of baffled by what had happened. At around 5 in the morning a guy, in construction worker gear, so probably a construction worker, had come in, played for like, 30 minutes, proceeded to lose about €600 playing the worst possible poker (strictly limp/call), and had left, looking pretty unfazed. I couldn’t help but hope for him he was dealing drugs on the side or something, because otherwise, that was probably a weeks pay that he had blown in half an hour, which I would have felt pretty gross about if I were him.
Now, while I was pondering whether he had truly been a construction worker or not, I passed one of the nice, old buildings close to the canals, and a sign caught my eye. “Humanist Society”. it said. You know, I wasn’t really into philosophy and all that jazz, but I did generally like humans and human achievement, also the front door was open and it seemed like it was a place where people left valuables laying around unattended, and so I found myself walking in. Around the corner I was greeted by a guy with a beard and glasses wearing a plaid sweater (a hipster avant-la-lettre, I guess). He welcomed me and asked me whether he could help me with something. I asked him what they were doing here and complimented him on the nice building, wondering what the rent for this place would be. I don’t remember it quite clearly but it was something about free thinkers and moving society forward through debate and discussion, which struck me as odd but interesting. He told me, as a matter of fact, tonight would be debate night, they were going to debate war and what it meant to society.
Now I was getting a bit groggy around this time, as happened often when I stayed up past breakfast time without eating, and before the good part of my brain could analyze what the bad part was planning, I had asked whether I could join the debate. You see, I often had long debates with friends, most of them while stoned, about just about anything. For example, the night before, one of my buddies had claimed that you could never truly know whether a woman was faking an orgasm or not, and consequently one should not bother about making women climax, at all. This memory triggered a chain of even more fond debating memories popping up in my hazy head, and so, to get him to allow me to join, I told him I had read quite some books about war, which was actually true as well. I had just recently finished Sun Tzu, which I had hoped would boost my poker game (which it hadn’t yet). He replied that I could, entry fee was 15 bucks. Great. It was a date.
A bit later, when I arrived at the tram stop, I noticed that it was 10 o’ clock already and I decided to visit Stacy before going home to get some sleep. Stacy was some dumb broad whose attic I used to grow weed, so I had to play the part of the loving boyfriend when I came by to water the plants, a feat which would oftentimes take a lot of energy. While I was checking the pH value of the water, the bitch wouldn’t shut up about when we were going to have a baby boy or girl, and this had been going on for some weeks now, so I decided it was finally time to deal with this particular issue. The plan I had come up with a few days before was to buy her a dog to refocus her motherly instinct on. I was planning to grow weed at her place for at least a few more years, because that was the time I figured I needed to become profitable at the 25€/25€ NLHE table at the Chinese place (how I got into a Chinese game as a non-Chinese is a tale for another time!), and a child didn’t quite fit in my plans. High chance it would end up with an IQ in the single double digits, anyway. Why curse a child like that? Performing a sly maneuver that could almost be called feminine, I told her that we were going to plan for that real soon, would you rather have a boy or girl, and hey by the way, my friend Edgar has these beautiful puppies, they are boys, he really wants to show them to us, when will you have time to go check that out? She was pretty enthusiastic about it. Everything went great, and I was starting to get enthusiastic about the debate, myself.
When I got home one of my roommates, Frank, approached me about our newest other roommate, whose name I forgot. He asked me, whether I knew the guys’ name, and what I would do when he would run with our stuff. I told him I hadn’t really thought about it yet, which prompted Frank to triumphantly show me a piece of paper with a bunch of personal information on it, supposedly it was our new roommate’s. He even had a picture attached to it with a paperclip. This was one of the reasons why I was fond of Frank, and I asked him if he wanted to join me in going to the debate, to which he replied “Sure, mate!”, and I went to sleep with a feeling that all was well in the world.
When I woke up, I did feel a bit uneasy, however. I was probably going to meet dozens of new people, and I wasn’t sure how I would go about breaking the ice. Then I remembered the bag of XTC pills that I had bought from the Yugoslavians for €1,50 a piece and which was now hidden in the battery compartment of my stereo set, so I quickly took it out and popped two of them. I had about an hour left before the debate started, so the MDMA would probably hit the brain at pretty much the right time. I asked Frank if he wanted some and he did. I don’t think I have ever heard him say no to any offer involving mind-altering substances. I left the 9mm at home. It didn’t feel proper to bring it.
When we sat down in the debate chamber, the pills didn’t work yet, but I did feel great regardless. I had quickly glossed over the Wikipedia page for Humanism, and although nothing had really stuck, I still felt confident in my knowledge on war in general. I am pretty knowledgeable on Genghis Khan, if I say so myself. To my disappointment however, it seemed that the debate was structured a bit differently from what I was used to, because two guys, one of them with a British accent, got on stage, and proceeded to take 10 minute turns in which they would talk in the most boring language you can imagine, and what was worse, they didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm for war at all! I had been planning to talk about Genghis Khan, I mean you talk about war you talk about the Khan, but the whole discussion seemed to be about how we were going to prevent war in the future. Now if you’d have lived in the neighborhoods I have lived in, you would understand how preposterous this idea is. The world is full of terrible cunts, and the quicker we start planning how to get rid of them, the better!
While I lost track of the conversation and my mind started to wander, thinking of the awesome things Genghis had done, the X hit. But although I would normally feel in tune with the people in my vicinity and very talkative, at this moment I just felt woozy and annoyed. At that time I was cursing the Yugoslavians for selling me crap, but now I think it was probably the setting and the crowd. I looked to my left and saw that Frank was tripping balls, nodding his head. I don’t think he even had an idea where we were, which happened more often so it didn’t really faze me. Then I got a text from Stacy stating that she had thought about it but that she didn’t really want a dog. Now I was getting seriously pissed off.
Looking to talk some sense into these numbskulls, I stumbled to the microphone in front of the podium where the dudes where debating, and I am not sure whether the question rounds had started yet, but I grabbed the mic, planning to tell them about war being one of the defining features of humanity and men in particular and not something we could just wish away, and also about Humanism probably being a misnomer. I was now drawing angry looks from the crowd and I felt that the atmosphere had turned a bit less touchy-feely, a bit more aggressive. I don’t know if you ever took XTC, but when things turn aggressive on X, that is one of the weirdest states of mind to be in. I can’t really describe it, but you can just take a pill on friday night and start a fight in your local entertainment area to find out, if you are so inclined.
A short guy with blonde hair and glasses tried to grab the mic from me, but I wouldn’t let him. I was pretty determined to let them know what was up and then leave, but he kept grabbing at it. My brains being all fucked up and under attack by this manlet, I tried to shout what I had been meaning to say into the mic, but it didn’t come out right at all. “What about Genghis Khan?” I yelled, and “Cowards die a lot and heroes live forever!” The guy tried to grab the mic again, and I pushed him away hard, the murmuring in the crowd now turned into yelling and screaming. The guy, in a reflex, shot a left hook and by some miracle hit me full on my nose. Some artery must have popped, because blood burst from my nose all over my sweater, I mean, crazy how much blood can just come out of your body like that. In the corner of my eye I saw that Frank had fallen asleep. Really weird, the guy could sleep on XTC. People with ADD really have a peculiar brain chemistry going on.
Anyway, not one to accept defeat so readily, I swung a few times at the blonde fellow but missed, I wasn’t really seeing straight anymore, I must say. Eventually I just lunged at him, and got a hold of his neck. In a fit of rage, I squeezed with all my power. The guy kept hitting my body as his face turned pale, but I wasn’t planning on letting go. However, all of a sudden someone grabbed me from behind and pulled me away. It was the bearded guy from before, I think. Long story short, I got thrown out. I had been defeated, and didn’t see how this situation could be turned into a win, furthermore Frank always finds his way home, so I went to Stacy’s to clean up, and then went home myself.
At home, I couldn’t sleep because of the stupid XTC pills. I ground my teeth in bed until the sun came up, thinking about the poor construction worker, while two lines from Catching the Butterfly by the Verve kept replaying in my head. God, I hate being high and seeing the sun come up. Fucking Humanists ruined my night. But I’m glad I left the gun at home. I fell asleep around 1 in the afternoon.



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