The Modern Method of Living.

The Modern Method of Living.

Y’know, I think I have almost got the knack of this modern lifes. . . , There you go, I was going to say “lifestyle”, but that would denote that we had a choice of what kind of life we chose to live…but no..rather, I see these times as an absurdity thrust upon us without choice or escape..so I would be better to choose the word in the title vis; “Method”…yes, I have almost got the gist of this modern method of getting by in an absurd world.. and it all came about through again my motor car.

I’ll tell you…

This morning I went to take the car out of the garage and I see it has a flat tyre…front drivers side..flat as a tack..bugger!…So I go to the boot to get the jack and the spare tyre out to do the job…a job, by the way any man my age has done dozens of times..you jack the car up, undo the wheel nuts and swap the spare from the boot to the car, tighten the wheel nuts back on and you’re on your way…right?……..no way!…just…no way.

These modern cars don’t work like that anymore. I think I told you of the trauma I suffered from the last car when the motor broke down completely through my incapacity to “read” the dynamics of the modern motor…I wrote a piece about it here..: https://freefall852.wordpress.com/2025/11/22/so-smells-defeat-2/  

Yes…I was “un-manned”…a modern social tragedy..but we then bought another car, a newer model several years younger than the last…and I confess I still have not got the twists and turns of the dashboard worked out..for instance…there are so many more switches and computer controlled lights and indicators that trigger these little electronic emoji-like characters to light up on the dashboard and I have no idea what half of them mean…and I am fearful that if I touch or click this or that switch, I will trigger a complete diagnostic collapse of the control system..so I drive the car like a woman drives a car…ie; I get in, insert the ignition key, turn on the motor and just drive…all signs of warning or distress I leave in the “to be addressed” file for the mechanic to worry about..I just drive until for God knows what reason it (the car) stops..then it’s a call to the RAA…which as yet I have not had to do…Thank God…because as I wrote of the last little Indian bloke that came with his RAA van, he promptly said that he doubted there would be anything he could do to help..and how right he was.

But back to the flat tyre..I go to the boot, lift the cover to the spare tyre hold and there is no real spare tyre…just a ; “Temporary Solution, space-saver ‘donut’tyre”….that’s right..no more spare tyres…this is f**ken marvellous, iddn’t it?…not only can I no longer fix the car motor, but now I cannot even fix a flat tyre…I have to put this “temporary gesture” dicky tyre on and then run it to a garage (about ¾ of an hour away) ASAP. To get it looked at…bugger me!

You know…I reckon they were having a brain-bleed, the people who designed the modern car.

And that’s just the car…

There’s the other part of modern method of coping with living in the here and now..watching the tele…the other night, I’m lounging on the living room sofa with the common-law wife, in that semi-drugged-out morphic state watching the shapes come and go..like in the rooms of Prufrock’s cheap hotel where the “women talk of Michelangelo”…or something like that…and this ..this..person appears on the wide-screen plasma dressed like a stylish, debonair Noel Coward, but with a head like Screaming Lord Such!…”What the F@@k!”..I involuntarily cried to the air in general..and it turns out the person in question was a hard-core lesbian economist dressed in manosphere tweeds telling me about my financial future…take it or leave it…”Pass”, I thought..

My wife says I’m homophobic…that I’m uncomfortable with my manhood…all those catch-cries of the progressive mob when they want to use coercive control to validate their own misplaced empathy in supporting any minority group that appears to be marginalised…why?…in most cases it is because said progressives are in a superior social position that gives them the warm-fuzzy pleasure of dispensing their approbation on this or that favoured subject de jour…after all, it costs nothing and they can claim the high moral ground for little or no effort on their part….but hey…I think I am getting the hang of it..

Then there is the national broadcaster book shows…and after forced listening to such tiresome diatribes that come over the air, I have come to the conclusion that “art” as it is being delivered in this modern age has to now pass though a filter of at least three measures…: Women’s issues (oppression, harassment, past abuses)..Ethnicity issues (indigenous or Black Lives Matter and oppressed minorities)..Queer philosophy (Trans rights, Gay interpretations of ancient mythology or just being given visual acknowledgement) …and if you can throw in a touch of disability affliction in the mix…bonus!

There..that’ll do for a Saturday grumble…now I’m going back to the manosphere because I’m sure Port Power can win at least ONE more AFL game before the end of the season!

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