Do Not Take Another Man’s Wife, Pt. I: Zbigniew Preisner

What can force two otherwise sane looking, possibly rational men, to act as if they were stuffed right back there in the caves, with their clubs, rotting teeth, and a lifespan of probably twenty years at best? Fighting over a woman, acting as if they have no other option in the matter, blaming the whole ridiculous thing on their supposed “hard wiring”---and on the ground lays the body of the man that caught the other cheating on his “wife”---another notion that should be left in the times when people thought the world was flat (if they thought about it at all)---have any of us exceeded our potential beyond this point, really? Wives, husbands, as if they were possessions---as if there was something somewhere that would be angry at you if there wasn’t a delusional ceremony based on some kind of organized oppressive illusory deity that acts like Hitler & Stalin with a dash of Dahmer, Gacy and Gein, all stirred up for the phenomenal breaking of wills & complete destruction of freedom as a concept, not to mention a possible reality for our minds and bodies as humans.

So when one ape catches the other and beats him over the head with his club, he sets off a domino of societal obligations which come with the no-longer-entertaining scampering of the ants, a sick belief in a system that clearly does not work, wherein this man with the bloody club soaked in brain & bone, now stands trial because what he did wasn’t “civilized.”

Meanwhile, someone in Arizona, maybe New Mexico, with their air conditioning on, blaring, with their Fresca or spritzer of some kind on their desk, stares at a screen (as the eyes of a drone), soaring over whatever country the EMPIRE sees fit until the exact moment when the use of this superior technology (which most definitely was not wasted on the betterment of the EMPIRE’S own citizens, but instead is used to kill others in other places on a mass scale without any knowledge of who they were or what they themselves might have wanted for a life (as the citizens of said EMPIRE have no idea who they were---as they are sands blown away on a beach that is being claimed for “civilization”---most definitely not because of oil, most definitely not because of the want to extend the borders of this EMPIRE far beyond all others before in the effort to claim this one big rock as its own, as if the fate of those prior will not affect itself at present), and with one quick flick of the wrist, one pressing of a button, ends the lives of more people this coward has never come in contact with (probably doesn’t even know how to say “hello” in the language of those individuals that he has just erased).

At home, this man sitting in Arizona or New Mexico has a wife who has just gotten done with work early. She has done this because she has arranged a rendezvous with a man who left his club at home, because at this point he doesn’t think he needs it. He is soaked in cologne, he is horny as hell & she is waiting in between satin sheets for satisfaction.

The primal detrimental quality within the man on his way home cannot be stifled by the job he has, for he got it because he was good at what he did before (as now he is better), rising on that economic ladder & making good with the bloody dirty hands that make all the choices. He is a machine of efficiency with a high success rate & in leaving the workplace he does not leave his job. Instead, he goes home to find more to practice on.