Famous Last Words...

Have you ever been at a point in your life where you bravely endure hardship after hardship, obstacle after obstacle, struggle after struggle, year after year, all the while naively clinging to the absurd notion that 'someday, things are bound to get better'...?

Have you ever been in such a desperate state of being where suddenly your mind quietens, things are made crystal clear, and you come to the conclusion that maybe things just aren't?  That fighting the good fight like you have been just isn't worth it anymore?  That you'd be better off dropping your microphone and walking off stage?  I can't help but think that one of my favourite people in this world - the cantankerous, belligerent, punk 'pioneer' John Lydon of Sex Pistols fame - said it best.

The man has had one seriously hard life.  He was born the oldest of four boys to dirt-poor Irish parents in a working-class London slum, at the height of a time when the Irish in England were seen as drunken parasites, and shops hung signs in their windows that declared 'No Irish. No Blacks. No Dogs.'  He contracted spinal meningitis in early childhood; a near-fatal experience that left him with crippling scoliosis and an inability to focus his eyesight that largely contributed to the infamous 'Lydon Stare.'  He fronted a band so outrageously vile and musically inept, knowing all along that it was doomed to fail.  He was ripped off, misused, and abused by blood-sucking band-mates, managers, friends, and family his entire life.  He spent three years unsuccessfully trying to keep his best friend since high school from a hopeless, self-destructive heroin addiction and the inevitable fatal overdose that goes along with it.  He hardly saw a penny for his efforts, and has spent the rest of his life bitter and twisted, living with the criticism of people who don't know what the fuck they are talking about. 

While I can't say that my story has been even remotely close to being as rough as that, I have been dealing with my share of demons for some time now, and I'm tired.  One can only take so much crap, and my crap reservoir is nearly overflowing...

I'm not as rotten as he is, but I share with Mr. Lydon a dogged determination to stand up for what I believe in; to speak my mind even when not socially acceptable, or when the outcome will almost certainly be less than rewarding.  We both have an often brutally cruel, misunderstood sense of humour, and the wherewithal to 'never let the bastards grind you down...'

But sometimes when you've fought and fought until you can't fight no more, there comes a time when enough is enough.  At the end of the Pistols' last gig at the Winterland Ballroom in San Francisco on January 14th, 1978, John Lydon famously faced his squalling audience and his train-wreck of a life, calmly took in his surroundings, then shook his head, gave a sneering chuckle and asked himself and everyone within earshot one question...

'Ever get the feeling you've been cheated...?'

Oh Mr. Lydon... Never so much in my entire life...