Since I have been free from taxing my limited mental powers with the task of feeding, moving and housing my brood, I have come to understand a few basic truths about civilization; that we our conditioned to believe lies such as political parties, governments and business are not ongoing conspiracies, that people who point guns at us are our servants, that people that take away the fruits of our labors do so on our behalf, that all people are created equal, and that mankind is forever improving.

To illustrate the fallacy of the final point, I have arranged a YouTube version of the Descent of Man—the Final Years, focusing exclusively on humanity’s lowest artistic point, rap. In my opinion, the final video is the logical destination for the American Dream, the end game of a society based purely on commerce, terminating in pure stylized ugliness. As bad as such lyrics as “dicks like Jesus,” are in #3, you wouldn’t think that the next offering would measure so much lower on the artistic scale. At least the “My Dick” clowns attempt—oh, never mind, I’m getting ill.

The material here starts out bad, and stays bad, peaking early with #2, but gradually diminishes in terms of both the breadth and depth of communication attempted, however crudely, by the performers, finally taking a nose dive into a talentless abyss with the final entry.

On second thought, don’t listen to any of this filth, just look at the video windows and try to imagine you are upside down viewing the Time Life Ascent of Man chart on your science teacher’s homeroom wall.

I trust something better is headed our way. My Grandmother LaFond always said that when you are on the bottom, there is only one way to go.

#1

#2

#3

#4