I am composing. A quick break before dashing down to the Starbucks to read a bit and then hustle back and compose some more. As I was just drinking coffee from four days ago, I saw an article about a man in Arizona who mistakenly received an email invitation to a bachelor party in Vermont. At this point, it would be impossible to convince me--and I am sure I am correct--that the two prevailing conditions of our age are not mental illness--call it insanity, if you wish--and depression. This guy is a father of a child who is ten months old. He just put a lot of money into renovating his house. But he wants to go to this bachelor party of these nitwits who, in turns out, want him to come anyway, even though everyone realizes the error.
But the guy in Arizona--I'm not making this up, this isn't Colin the writer doing his thing--can't justify that kind of expense right now, with the renovations to his house (must be nice, having a house, renovating it, having cash for that) and the child to support, of paying $750 to make this trip across the country to go to a bachelor party for someone he doesn't know. So he started a GoFundMe to raise the $750 so he can take a break from his family and drink across the country with strangers.
Not a GoFundMe because he needs a kidney or he can't afford to buy food. So he can go to a bachelor party with people he doesn't know. And as the article said, before he had sat down to the dinner his wife had prepared that night, he had the money. He was going to fly to Logan and drive up to Vermont, picking up some microbrews on the way. This world is so far fucking past crazy. It's fucking sick and diseased. This was supposed to be a cute story. Not a "isn't this fucking disturbing" story.