confessions of a lazy sociopath

I have this dream gig planned. You see,
quite some time ago I re­al­ized that I was
help­less­ly lazy. Not stu­pid, mind you, just
lazy. All I want­ed to do was read and give
ab­struse 45 mins in­sights once a week.

How do I, with the least ef­fort pos­si­ble,
con­vince farm­ers and hunters the world
over to keep me in books and spon­sor
my stud­ies? Well, in ad­di­tion to be­ing
lazy and ab­nor­mal­ly bright I’m also a
prude. I don’t care much for drink­ing or
sex de­spite their pop­u­lar­i­ty as pas­times.
I’m sure I can find an old book that
warns against overindul­gence. A clever
pun­ish­ment in­volv­ing fire and an
af­ter­life can also be craft­ed. Who, in
their right mind, aside from a dumb or
guilty per­son, would care what hap­pens
to them af­ter death? This can work.
Next, my li­braries and read­ing rooms will
need to be fund­ed by stu­pid rich peo­ple
who want to buy a bet­ter af­ter­life. Did
I just com­mod­i­fy an ab­stract con­cept?
Yes.

De­spite be­ing a lazy ego-dri­ven prude,
I’m still so­cial. I have to be the cen­ter
of at­ten­tion at my week­ly manda­to­ry
gath­er­ings. I can do this by cre­at­ing an
ad­di­tion­al fear oth­er than death. Like
a culling. I al­ways hat­ed be­ing picked
last for teams so I can play off everyone’s
fear of re­jec­tion in a sim­i­lar fash­ion.

My hero de­ity will in­sist on pick­ing teams
against an equal­ly pow­er­ful in­ver­sion of
them­selves. Every­one will want to be on
the win­ning team and I can tell them
how every week. Even­tu­al­ly, oth­er lazy
smart peo­ple will see through my ruse
so I’ll have to re­cruit them be­fore­hand
to keep it go­ing. We’ll elect the smartest
and lazi­est one of us to do noth­ing but
wear cool clothes be­cause it’s hi­lar­i­ous.

Some­where down the road, way af­ter my
time, peo­ple will stop lis­ten­ing to lazy
clever peo­ple. These will be dark days
when every­one is forced to work and no
one wants to read from cool dusty books
that I’ve edit­ed and de­signed. I can write
up a prophe­cy call­ing this era some­thing
omi­nous like “the last days.” Be­cause,
in truth, they will be. They will be the
last days that lazy, clever (but not ed­u­cat­ed)
peo­ple can run things. By then every­one
will be quan­tifi­ably more in­tel­li­gent than
me. And let’s face it that would suck for
lazy peo­ple who like to read all day.

Did I men­tion I love Italy for some rea­son
and that I want to build a cas­tle there?

—louis her­nan­dez

Flom­mist Louis Her­dan­dez is ob­sessed with go­ing Bauhaus and be­com­ing The Ma­chine. Prefer­ably a drill press. Copy­right © 2016 Louis Her­nan­dez. Top im­age: The ThWINGh’s (so-called) ‘Cas­tle,’ part of FLOM­MIST COM­PO­SI­TION No.4 (cropped) from FLOMM! THE BAT­TLE For MOD­eRN 1923 – und – the Monk, source.

Louis will be part of KABARETT FLomm­stein, com­ing this fall …

MOR D’ARTÍCULOS  MOR FLOMM !

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