Emotionally and intellectually disabled. Limping along the path of life like lice-ridden vagabonds. Limp, limp, limp, stumble, fall, grazed bleeding knees. Weeping and whining, arms outstretched, pleading like snotty-nosed infants. Retarded beings. Stunted wisdom. Immature souls. Searching constantly for something, anything, to fill their vacant lives. They swarm the land like seething, weeping pustules. A pathetic and rather embarrassing reflection of what it truly is to be human. Or rather, what it is to reach fulfillment as a human. Fulfillment as a human is to be at peace with being human. Greed-driven. Violent. Eternally fallible. Ugly. Vicious. Directionless. Yet filled with a colossal capacity for love and empathy. Kindness. Beauty. If you haven’t embraced what is to be human - the good and the evil – then you will need a crutch. You will need a crutch because the yukky part of being human is too much for your fragile mentality to bear. These are the retarded masses that continuously conjure up the most fantastical crutches to make this life bearable.


As Marx stated “Religion is the opium of the masses”. Perhaps more intended to reflect religion as a political tool, but still it rings true in a universal sense. Life isn’t all ha, ha, hee, hee (as the gloriously titled Bollywood program claims). It’s tough. Facing life - and death - without faith; without spirituality; without belief, takes platinum-plated balls the size of planetoids in the Kuiper Belt. Painting pretty pictures with a baby-faced sun, a golden-paved afterlife, or reincarnation as Heidi Klum’s thong, is simply pitiable. Shame. Here’s your crutch. Limp along nicely now and take care to avoid the boogeymen. BOO!


Hide behind a book. Run for cover behind sickly sweet Hallmark platitudes. Shave you head and escape reality in Goa. Batten down the hatches in some guru-worshipping cult in Texas. Join the tofu-farting, tie-dyed gimps in a sweat hut in Fordsburg. Here’s your crutch. Welcome to the paralympics of spiritualism, new-age esotericism and religion.


It’s all a crutch. Sometimes a very lucrative crutch for the people flogging books, cults, sermons, face-paint, rain-sticks, stupid cobweb dreamcatchers, crystals, CDs, DVDs, television shows, entire channels (scuse the pun). There’s a sucker born every minute. They’re easy to find. And even easier to make plunder. The decline of formal religion (in the civilized world at least) was supposed to herald the triumphant emergence of fulfilled human beings. Yet all it did was leave a sickening gap. Without the opium of religion, there are now millions of humans proudly proclaiming to be non-religious, yet achingly craving the same old bloody crutch in the form of “spirituality”. As if denouncing religion welcomes them into the realm of the intelligentsia. Bollocks. Here’s your crutch. New-age esoteric crap. In fact, I have more respect for the religious. At least they are sound in their faith. Doggedly pursuing their ancient dogma instead of blindly adopting any new-fangled craze that usually rapes and pillages from unkempt philosophies and fly-by-night stoned epiphanies. They have Red Indian dreamcatchers, aboriginal didgeridoos, Buddhist statuettes, Kabbalah bracelets, Maori tattoos and Chinese royalty past-lives. Here’s your freaking crutch.


They speak of Karma. In fact they would even spell the Kama Sutra incorrectly. They usually have zero inkling of Karma or Chakras or Buddhism or Kabbalah or any such notion. Or they will confidently proclaim their knowledge, since they recently attended this “heyshawow” weekend getaway where some idiot formerly known as Frikkie Du Plessis - but now being called Big Cock Hunting Eagle Dalai-Oogahchukka – blew cleansing lavender smoke up their anuses and ridded them of that bad past life experience.


As to past life experiences. Here’s your crutch. Being Joe Soap living in Morningside, Sandton, is just too vanilla. Lemme think... Hmmm, a ravishing, smoky-eyed concubine in the court of Sheik Mohammed Ulababakar in the 7th Century AD is much more glamorous. Ever wonder why these past-lives were never simply another Joe Soap in another time? It’s always some bloody princess this or king’s consort that.


Ever wonder why near-death experiences always involve bright-white light, flowing robes and harps a-strummin, and no one ever comes back speaking of sulphuric fumes and cloven hoof-prints in the ashen dust? I guess only the good come back then.


Is life so empty for these people? Devoid of substance? Is it their own fault? I guess you can’t blame people for being stupid. Would be great if that held in a court of law though.


Judge: Mr. Dickens, why did you not pay your TV license?
Mr. Dickens: er… Sorry, Your Worship, I was being stupid.
Judge: Oh, okay, you may go.


Jesting aside, people are empty. They keep searching for fulfillment when there is none. Fulfillment only comes from acceptance. Acceptance that this is life. This is your life. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s all you have. Now it’s up to you to make it the best life possible. Statistically speaking you could look forward to 70 odd years of good life on this planet. Don’t waste it by seeking a crutch to deal with harsh reality. Accept and be free. Be free to simply enjoy life. And then die happy.


Or carry on stumbling blindly along. Here’s your crutch.