This could, had it not been for the ultra violence, government van rampages, media’s lack of diligent unbiased reporting, and all those bullet holes found in the body cavities of too many protesters, been a functioning model of a civil revolution; but no dignity is to be found within the administration; no, all of that is hunkered down in Tahirir square, now singing songs over the live feed brought out of Cairo by Aljazeera, as allusions to capitulation have been swirling for the last few hours.

How could a power hungry despot like Mubarak be expected to step down, when the money is not demanding his removal; his money, our money, their money, the situation will not sway until the money has it’s say, and according to reports out of Aljazeera, who should receive every award for journalism available for it’s coverage, the power elite of Egypt seem to think he is a hell of a guy.

I have been pacing a rut into my distasteful linoleum kitchen floor for over two weeks now, while the rest of my peers seem to not be able to quite wrap their ability to give a shit, in any meaningful manner, around the situation.

Which brings us to our next topic of conversation, which I will have with myself in this darkened corner of the web, speaking at people seemingly deaf to anything which requires a bit of thought and feeling,.. the question of, what are “we” to do, when situations like revolution in some desert thousands of miles away, and even further removed from the active consideration of most of the mongrel knuckle gnawing types I know, than the surface of the sun.

I still maintain that simply talking about the situation helps, in that it keeps the ADD at bay, by virtue alone of keeping the information at the front of the brain, so that the general consciousness of the situation is always hovering right on the cusp of evolution. Luckily for Egypt, as opposed to Iran, no major pop star has died.

Many have confronted me, saying plainly, “I just don’t give a fuck.” Which, while baffling to me, is fine, many very brave and foolhardy young men and woman have went to war and death for our ability to “not give a fuck.”

And why should America “Give a fuck”, if our FBI trained the Egyptians regimes “Security forces” Or if the likes of the Taliban were trained by the CIA to help take out the Russians; how can all of this be of any importance when the yoke of wage slavery hangs over us like a giant rape hungry monster, waiting only to pounce with eviction and shut off notices at the end of the month. When the feminists, historically one of the easiest to incite to anger, is being sidetracked with the GOPs bill to redefine rape to basically only include regular old fashion knife to the throat rape with regards to a womans right to choose whether to terminate a pregnancy; yes, while the sanctity of rape babies and gay marriage and the lack of proper healthcare and natural gas fracting, oil plagued gulf, fast food, like small pox blankets, rising high and forever on the horizon. Poison fish and rules for your womb are much bigger issues? Right?,… the lone cricket cries out in the night, drunk; playing his tiny fiddle for the few who care, not in some superficial sense, like how they care how they look, but care as in their eyelids serve the duel function of keeping out the dust and damming the tears which constantly threaten to flow when our minds veer into the unsavory territory of reality. No, times like these are not for deliberate concentration, it is the time for stiff drink, television, and masturbation until the skin is worn clean from the shaft.

Yes, it is a sick sad world we live in when government, any government, can shut down its lines of communication, use their vehicles to run down the public, and staunchly ignore the demands of, murder, and torture its populace, and at the very least the major box office markets wont even pay the proper attention to the situation.

Even now, as I type, the staunch refusal from the Egyptian dictator rings out across the world, he said he wasn’t going anywhere until September, and by God, Allah, Buddah, or the Great Pumpkin he means it, may one or all of them have mercy on our souls.