The Social Nihilism of the Automobile Back Seat

There’s a lot of useless noise in the Anthropocene – the banging chords of chaos and entropy. On wordpress, which should be a haven for original opposition to the dominant order of hector and psychopathy, there is rampant confusion from the intellectually lost and the cognitively bankrupt: the bizarre monotheists, the demented fascists and midlife anhedonists and Fox News morons. Whereas brings a daily curated culling from the tenured and enfranchised researches of mid to high culture, wordpress should be the uplifting, naked delivery of individual cognitive stirrings against authority, but it is failing, badly.  Podcasts, too, that free avenue for creative play and ferment, are increasingly in need of the fast-forward button, the spread of timid habit overcoming the open sources of comedy and political ferment. More channels everywhere, more disquiet, more takeover by the frantically unheeding and morose. The established channels of the higher-think periodicals are listless and corporate-owned, but there is no such excuse for the volume of idiot religious apologetics and racist drivel from get-off-my-lawn lecternists.

With the certified water crisis hitting Asia in murderous ways from now until the magic due date of 2050, there is a need to see how the extravagant, purposeless purchasing of North America illuminates the yeast-in-vat bloat of the other side. Where to look? How about under the car seats of today’s American children and grandchildren?  A coffee-table photographic explication of American’s dirty car seat underbelly  with an impressionistic textual essay from the world’s leading social nihilist has not been accepted by any of the publishing world’s more envelope-cracking literary agency-salons, but crowdfunding could be in the beginning stages.

America’s parents have been under the trash gun for decades now, but the Happy Meal toy, paperwaste, and disposable carton trifecta of waste has achieved never-before achieved heights, only visible under the back seats of the fleet of SUVS, Subarus, and late-model Chevys, from pharaonic rich to drug-delivery-system motoring poor. With enough fossil fuel damage already wrought from over-sending of forgettable photos, there is no need to document this epic social charge via surreptitious photo-relaying from underneath younger relatives’ car seats, but take it on faith – there are oceans beset by drifting masses of plastic, but there are also undisturbed mounds of chocolatized, dirty napkin McDonald’s nuclear fires festering underneath every crap-tossing kids’ seat in this happy motoring land. The children know no better, they cannot be tasked with digging out their piles of toxic throwaway food ‘n trinkets, and the parents simply have time to be vacuuming, extracting, or restoring the hopeless, crumb-strewn under-seat carriage. It’s just not a pretty sight, nor can it ever be. Far better to have a lever to open the sliding hatch under the seats of America’s green corps of two-to-ten year-olds, and lets the weekly accumulations of wrapping, half-eatings, and Chinese-slave manufactured superhero facsimiles be left on the streets like the horseshit mounds of yore.



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