In fact, you can usually buy into the mindset that a product’s value is inversely proportionate to the amount of hype it receives. This is because, to use another tired cliché, the cream rises to the top. If a product is so perfect, you’ll hear about it and love it regardless of how much hype it receives. This is why the most brilliant bands tragically play to crowds of a dozen or so at small bars in the Midwest while Maroon 5 and Coldplay sell billions of CDs and t-shirts. Believe the hype, and you are one of the nameless masses willing to throw your every dollar and whim at the feet of advertisers who want to tell you what to believe. Then again, we are all part of the masses - except for yours truly, of course.

Broken Kid is above all that. Broken Kid is a trendsetter. You have heard of none of the bands Broken Kid loves. Broken Kid’s electronics come from obscure Japanese companies that went bankrupt years ago and that no repairman will touch. Broken Kid buys his cereal from stores you couldn’t find on a map and in brands that contain colors you’ve never seen and the perfect low-fat substitute for sugar that would revolutionize the food industry if anyone else, including the FDA, happened to hear of it. This is why Broken Kid is very, very alone.

Regardless, ten minutes spent with a mildly defective Apple iPhone (not to be confused with the easily forgotten Cisco iPhone that no one really wants anyway) hooked up by three-inch-thick cable to a wall display at an empty AT&T store convinced this cynic and trend-defier that this may be the perfect device everyone has been waiting for since, well, sliced bread. (Rumor has it, Apple is working on a new interface for sliced bread. Believe it.) The hype for the iPhone wasn’t merely right; an argument can be made that all the pretty commercials and front-page newspaper articles under-hyped the combination music player/cell phone/PDA.

Then again, Apple has made its rocky career on creating hype for products that defy what people think they actually want. In a world of satisfyingly tired clichés, Microsoft is the maker of sliced bread and the wheel and fire - the things everyone accepts as the epitome of greatness. Apple, on the other hand, creates the BetaMax, the laser disc, the New Coke - the things that are better than their predecessors but that no one will ever buy and thus are doomed to be inconsequential before even their inception. Broken Kid is convinced that the sole reason Apple Computers exists is to give Microsoft new ideas for its next operating system, always two or three years behind its Apple counterpart.

But somehow the brilliance of Apple’s iPod caught on, and people not only bought into the much ballyhoo’d hype but also the brilliance of the device. Ask an iPod fan why the device is so perfect, and they’ll stammer uncomfortably and describe the clickwheel and the navigation and the fact that holy crap you can put eight million albums on it. The non-iPod fan (who, these days, only resists the iPod as a counter-culture means of being ironically cool) will quickly point out any of a number of other devices (non-ironically labeled as iPod killers) that offer as much or more hard drive space, easy navigation, and functions beyond those available on the iPod. Still, the iPod owns a huge majority of the market share, and Microsoft’s Zune was irrelevant before it was even released, even to the twenty or so people that bought one.

It’s absolutely true: you can find a number of devices that offer more features than the iPod and have as much space for music, a better screen for photos and movies, and that are nowhere near as proprietary and self-contained as the iPod. But Apple, in all its brilliance, knows that you don’t really want those things. Apple has resisted the demand to unveil an iPod/phone device for years, and the video iPod, with its tiny screen, always felt a little behind the times. Because the folks who play poker with Steve Jobs know you don’t want a lot of things done well; you want a few things done perfectly. And you want to enjoy it.

That’s why the iPod has always been the brilliant device that it is, even if you’re one of the unlucky folks who never upgraded beyond your old 2G 20 Gig version. It doesn’t offer all the bells and whistles that sound great but that, honestly, you’ll never really use. It just perfectly does what it claims to do. And in doing so, it just feels good. It reduces the buttons to just a few. It keeps the form factor down to something that fits comfortably in your palm or pocket. It even adopted the clean and immaculate color of white as its perfect color, because electronics are supposed to be black or gray or silver or some cool color like cobalt blue, and white is somehow different and purer.

This, then, should conflict with the Kid’s argument that the iPhone is the perfect device. But don’t think that. The Kid will never lead you astray. In fact, while the iPhone finally offers a multitude of features and seems to represent the Americanizing or dumbing down of the iPod theory presented above (more features, less storage space), there’s still something about it that seems more like the perfection of existing technology instead of pushing the envelope. The iPod was never about pushing the envelope either. Let the sliced bread manufacturers do that.

There have been phone/PDA combinations for years that combine cell phone, music player, Internet, and other functionality into one. Most of them run on some stripped-down version of Microsoft software, so you don’t have to feel that you’re leaving your precious computer at home. There have been other devices with larger screens or bigger hard drives or a few dozen more features that you’ll never use. The iPhone, on the other hand, has a handful of features, and it seems to get them all right.

The screen is beautiful, and it adjusts to vertical or horizontal positioning automatically in the same bewildering way that magic just works. It’s easy to forget for those with normal eyesight that you’re looking at photos or movies on such a small screen. The Internet access is simple and decidedly attractive. It incorporates everything together, so you can touch a contact’s address to get directions via Google Maps or tap a phone number on a website to call that number on the phone. And, of course, it’s tactile. No sterile third-party of a stylus here; you are forced to touch your iPhone, and various movements of your finger do different things, from resizing the screen effortlessly to switching between cover art of your music or the index of your photos.

Most of all, the folks at Apple want the iPhone to feel good to you. They could have made it thicker by adding a physical hard drive and allowing one hundred or more gigabytes of storage. But they used Flash memory and kept the shape thin and tight. It fits into your hand the way a loved one’s hand would, as if it were made for you alone. It’s no bigger and no smaller than it should be. It’s just right.

All this being said, Broken Kid does not own an iPhone. Sure, he could afford it; the monthly stipend paid by the Moravian government is more than enough to purchase the new device and continue the Kid’s lavish if unsatisfying lifestyle. But there’s something about the iPhone that screams inefficient and keeps the Kid relying on his completely separate and far less satisfying 3G iPod and blocky cell phone.

For one thing, Apple defied its own tried and true logic by forcing upon its followers faith and devotion to AT&T, which once owned all communications including The Spoken Word™, in the shape of a two-year commitment and a plan that starts, realistically, at $80 a month before taxes and typical phone surcharges. (With those things, you’ll be paying about $100 a month to use the iPhone, although a less realistic plan is $20 less.) In addition, you have to break your contract with whatever tyrannical cell phone dealer you use now, probably paying another $150 just for the right to sell your soul to AT&T. Then, of course, there’s the cost of the iPhone itself: $600 for the 8 Gig model, and why would anyone buy the 4 Gig one for a mere $100 less?

These costs, themselves, are not the crux of the issue. The Kid would happily slap down $600 for the perfect iThing and the joy of holding it just right. The problem is that Apple is forcing itself upon you, not merely in the form of all the iHype but in its iSynergy with iT&T, the only company Broken Kid would never want to invest in (other than all the other companies, that is). You’re not paying for just the iPhone itself, which is probably worth more than Apple is graciously willing to take for it, but for using the iPhone, for enjoying it. This feels dirty, even to the reliably cynical Broken Kid.

So yes, Apple has done it again. The iPhone, in and of itself, is the perfect device, if 10 minutes of play and tactile sensation is long enough to make such a claim. And the Kid wants one so bad that everything else seems pale and boring and Microsofty by comparison (even sliced bread, which tastes nearly the same as the non-sliced and far inferior variety). But owning the iPhone is owning a commitment to using the iPhone, and this the Kid can’t buy into. Maybe someday, when its cheaper and has more storage and companies like Virgin support it (the Kid likes the guts of naming your company Virgin), yours truly will plunk down his soul (if there’s any left) for the experience of using it and pleasuring himself to its perfection (and excellent music quality). But not yet. Not now, when the hype tells us “The Time is Right,” despite the fact that he wants to. More than anything.

In this day and age, the powerful presence of the Internet is a given in our daily lives. It’s the Big Brother watching over us, the mother earth wrapping us up in her cocoon, the god-like figure who sees and knows all. The Internet is omnipresent, and we are expanding its presence every day until there’s virtually nowhere we can go where we cannot access the Internet immediately to type “lolz” or “pwnd” or any of the other trademarks of its wide language.

But, believe it or not, boys and girls, Broken Kid remembers a time before the Internet. This wasn’t as long ago as you may think. Television came in color then, and New Coke was already Old News. It was really only a decade and a half or so when a few people at colleges and military institutions were using noisy dial-up modems to type complex, Unix-based text commands to access computers remotely and maybe send e-mail and ascii art to each other. This, in itself, was barely after the time of green-on-black monitors and 3.5-inch floppies shaking our collective consciousnesses to their core.

The Kid remembers a time when telephone was the primary mode of conversation with acquaintances rather than text messages on cell phones and hand-written letters delivered within a week were as fast as mail could travel. Growing up in the ghetto, the Kid was happy for such things, even if he didn’t have any real friends, even then. Those who knew him knew he was destined for greatness, and greatness is scary. At least, Broken Kid frightened people off for some reason.

In the course of fifteen or so blazing years of technological expansion (and why, pray tell, have toilet paper and dental procedures been the only real things left behind by the climactic explosion of science?), the Internet wormed its way into our lives and minds and souls and bowels, sucking up mindless hours culling for jokes and research papers and, of course, pornography.

A recent news article in the bastion of journalistic integrity, the Wall Street Journal, talked about a family who chose their child’s name for the sole reason that a Google search turned up no other exact matches. By the time the child is online (surely no later than 3, these days), there will likely be a host of others following suit with the same name, but for now, the fetus is virtually assured of in-utero cyber-stalking, made more sure by his search engine exclusivity than any news rag front-page article passing for “hard news”. And is there any preoccupation more wonderfully American than cyber-stalking?

Go type your name into Google or your favorite search engine (there were others, once…the Kid remembers). Go ahead, we’ll wait. How many pages does it take to hit the real you? Probably quite a few, Mr. John Smith or Mrs. Mary Jones (boy, your parents were unique, weren’t they?), but you’re in there. Keep hitting the “oooo” numbers, and you’ll find yourself eventually. Because you live in phenomenal times, and you use a computer, by golly, because it’s your right! Forget bearing arms, we fight for our right to download Paris Hilton’s infrared sex tape and pass chain letters!

When Broken Kid types in his real full name, he appears on page 3 of Google’s results. His nickname returns a hit on page 1, believe it or not. Heck, simply searching for “Broken Kid” – the new and most appropriate moniker for your hero – shows this site as the No. 2 page, behind only the DJ mentioned elsewhere in these pages. It’s not hard to get a web presence. Just post to a message board, register a myspace page, join facebook, post a picture on flickr, or ask a question on yahoo. Heck, some of you young’uns probably had your name listed for birth announcements or a presence on your playschool’s homepage.

Sometimes, the Kid gets nostalgic, and he starts thinking of those particular people who flitted through his life for a moment or two. You know, the ones who left an impact whether they remember yours truly or not. The Kid types their names in search engines carefully, with quotes, trying to find a homepage or blogspot or myspace page or some way to know what they’re doing today, how they look, what they feel. Sure, the Kid could use the full weight of his position and prestige to get dozens of highly trained experts to track them down and procure marriage certificates, photos of them eating breakfast, and underwear from their bottom drawer (the female ones, anyway). But those things take time and motivation, and the Kid doesn’t like to stray from his chaise lounge and laptop and slow fizz gin.

It is continually astounding how little web presence these few special folks have. You would think one or two of them had fallen prey to the temptation of Mother Internet, suckling at her breast while posting tales of their lunchtime shenanigans on livejournal or staying close to family with a yahoo photo site. Of course, most of these folks were born near the time of your preacher here, but you see how easily the Kid maintains his online fame. Wouldn’t one or two of these special people have created a message board profile or a youtube account?

One has a handful of messages posted in 2004. Another had a mention on the staff of a Midwest college. Others have names so unoriginal that the Kid’s patience is tested by page 57 and searches by hometown or pin number turn up squat. The Kid thought he discovered an unfortunate treasure trove when reading a news story of a childhood friend’s mysterious disappearance and death, but close examination of pictures and a slim memory of his family revealed this to be just another man of same name and age. The real childhood friend seems to be one posing with a graduate student presentation at a state college in 2003, but that does Broken Kid little good except to make him feel inadequate, and he has plenty of other reminders of that flaw.

It’s highly possible – probable, even – that most or all of the female searchees have been married in the years since the Internet’s creeping voracity overtook all of our lives. Unfortunately, too few newspapers maintain enough online archives to log marriage announcements, or if they do, they’re not found through a Google search of the name and marriage.

Quite frankly, the Kid doesn’t want to know if these lovelies were married. He still maintains some slim hope he’ll be strolling down the street incognito to his favorite bar to drink away another horrid morning and he’ll see her step out of her Porsche and recognition will be simultaneous. She’ll smile and step forward and open her mouth in some exclamation of excitement and glee, and the Kid will slink away in shame of who he has become and how his life has turned out (don’t let the trappings fool you, folks, Broken Kid is a miserable man), and two years later, he’ll Google her again to see if she started an online blog to tell the stories of how she almost ran into the one who got away, all those years ago, and how her fantasies are left, yet again, unfulfilled.

That’s justice, after all, and the Internet never lies. If only it didn’t withhold information.

‘Why?’ you are screaming as you tear your hair from your head in frustration. ‘Why did you go away, Broken Kid?’ Your plaintive cries can be heard all the way to the Kid’s secret Fortress of Solitude, as can your sobs of joy. Pay heed, good friends, because the Kid has missed you nearly as much as you have missed him.

Unfortunately, despite the proliferation of wireless technology and access to more advanced technology and cheaper prices, it’s still extremely difficult to access the Internet from a Guatemalan prison-camp. Even if it were possible to McGuyver some variety of device out of rocks, dirt, and human fecal matter, there’s no where to plug it in. And subsisting on a thin gruel consisting of as much hair and dirt as actual food makes it difficult for even a hearty soul such as yours truly to muster the motivation necessary for such a feat.

No, that’s not entirely true. The time spent in a backwards prison deep in the heart of the rainforest was only two weeks. The remainder of the time that Broken Kid has been missing from your collective consciousness has been spent on a good-will tour of Europe, spreading the gospel of wisdom and faith and spirit of man. Two assassination attempts and one instance of choking on a pretzel later, the Kid soars back to the States on his private jet and finds time in his busy schedule to enlighten the masses once again.

Ok, that’s not completely true either. Most of the time in Europe was spent in brothels and casinos wasting much of the Kid’s family fortune and suffering a bout of what could only be an extremely limited resurgence of the Bubonic Plague. In truth, the Kid didn’t stray far from his humble home in four months, spending much of that time curled up in a small ball on the floor and downing expensive vodka at remarkable rates until the day and night blended into one big ball of meaninglessness. It’s difficult to acknowledge the passing of time while in such a state, and when the Kid finally arose from his metaphysical death of denial to shower away the sludge of redemption, shave away the mask of deceit, and return to the world from his 40 days (or six months) of time spent in a desert of self-involvement, he was as shocked as you to discover it’s the middle of winter in a brand new year and not a single self-serving fan bothered to send him a Merry Christmas card. Fie on you, you ungrateful whelps. The Kid shall be stopping payment on the reimbursement of your college loans by the end of the day.

You may be wondering what put your stoic hero in such a state of despair and disrepair over the preceding months, to which the Kid firmly insists you mind your own damned business and get a job!

But seeing as how so much of your own minor existences are rolled up into that of Broken Kid’s, it’s possible you’re entitled to some semblance of explanation. See, Broken Kid is, for lack of a more suitable word, broken. Surely you’re aware, by now, of the extent to which today’s modern society sends the kid into a state of helpless depression. But not everything can fall on the feet of the huddled and hopeless masses, it’s true. Perhaps there’s faulty wiring within the miraculous mind of Broken Kid. Genius is often linked to depression and mental illness, after all. More likely all human beings are wired to sink into darkness when faced as clearly with the overwhelming desperation of civilization. It’s akin to reverting to an animalistic state, most likely, when even a mind as expansive and clear as the Kids can no longer face the empty mayhem of entropy that pervades society as a whole and, in particular, those few souls lucky enough to come into regular contact with the Kid.

It’s difficult to break this news to those who idolize the Kid so openly (and understandably so), but Broken Kid is a weak man. Now your cry out your disagreement and shout your exclamations of support, and while such blind encouragement is appreciated the way Broken Dog’s hand licking can be seen as an expression of adoration and appreciation, you should know that you, friends, are among those who make the Kid feel so sad for the state of man. You can’t help it… you’re subject to the same failings of society in general. The Kid is subject to those same elements, so do not despair; not everyone can be as enlightened to see the truth and change their very nature.

In short, it is the instinct of the animal in each of us to withdraw from extreme moments of fear, sorrow, and hopelessness and retreat into the dark and the warm and the safe. So that’s where the Kid found himself, day after night after day: curled up in a ball in the closet with his bottle of liquor and the repeated comfort of banging his head against the hard wooden floor until welcome sleep comes with its promises of dreams. Safe behind lead-lined walls and alarm systems that would make Fort Knox jealous, the Kid was impervious to your screams of desperation. It’s not that he didn’t care about you. He just didn’t care enough…

That being said, the Kid is back. For the time being, he’s shading his eyes against the uncomfortable light of day seeping through shaded windows and working his magic at the keyboard. He’s ready to share his wisdom and truth, if you’re ready to listen. But be warned: the world is a scary and disheartening place. It won’t take much to send the Kid into another spiral of despair. The Vodka is always close at hand. So, though, could be a glimmer of hope. He can see it beyond his shades. He’s just not sure he believes in it.

Ahem. Sorry about that. Back to the issue at hand: the problem with society as we know it. That’s a pretty big topic, and the Kid wants you to know that he’s figured out the problem, which is, as stated before, people only care about themselves. Now let’s explore that, shall we?

While such a realization seems mindlessly obvious, let’s look at some of the things that needle us about life as we know it. Let’s start with the big on: murder. Why do people kill other people, outside of protecting them and theirs? Because the other person is meaningless to them. When you only care about yourself, there’s no place in your consciousness for the realization of another life. We can all be mindless killers if we are so wrapped up in ourselves that we cannot acknowledge the very self we’re blasting away with our 9mms.

What about other issues? Poverty? When you have all the money, and you care only for yourself, why share? When you’re a politician who is elected solely because you fit a mold and have lots of money to get your name out, why share? When other people don’t matter, it’s easy to step over the legs of a vagrant on the street.

Disease? Well, that one’s tough, seeing as how it’s nature’s revenge on our sorry asses. Next.

Global warming and other environmental concerns? When there is nothing else that matters beyond yourself, the future is irrelevant. Let’s drive those massive Hummers today, because our children are zygotes.

Most problems can be traced back to this problem, not only in our measly little society but the world in general. And the point is, people don’t see anything wrong with placing themselves first and foremost. In fact, we are trained from day 1 to place ourselves before all else.

And what’s wrong with that, you might ask? After all, who else would we put first if not ourselves? The point is simply to expand one’s worldview and allow room within it for those within our realm of affectability. That’s not saying, precisely, to see the consequences of your actions, although that’s part of it. But admit into your scope of thought the others who your actions might affect and consider their roles in your actions.

In the posts that follow, the Broken Kid will lay out his manifesto all simple-like for you and explore the problem that we’ve just begun to touch upon. There will be example upon example, with the purpose of opening your beady little eyes and your narrow little minds and maybe considering other people … if not first, then among your own private concerns.

And in doing so, kids, you – yes, you! – can change the world. Give it a go. But for now, just go.

It’s actually fairly simple, and ask anyone if they agree that it’s … if not the biggest problem, at least it’s a big problem, and they’ll surely agree. That doesn’t mean you, dear reader, or the ignorant coworker you’re going to ask about it is not guilty of this problem. In fact, everyone – including, to some extent, yours truly – is guilty of this ultimate problem in society.

And here it is… Are you ready? Are you prepared? Have you significantly opened your mind and soul and readied yourself for the wisdom the Kid’s about to lay down? Get to it, Mr. Kid, you’re surely saying right now, to which you get a slap in the face for your obtrusive but respectful efforts. The Kid moves at the Kid’s pace.

People only care about themselves.

Did you miss it? Go ahead, move your beady little eyes up an inch or three and read it again. Let your mind process it. Keep your reactions to yourself.

Feeling a little let down? Well, of course you are. Unless you’re suffering from a serious mental deficiency – and if you are, how the hell did you get this far? – you know people only care about themselves. That’s part of the problem, you see. We’ve all become so indoctrinated into believing that it’s a god-given by-fuck right to think first and only of oneself that, frankly, it’s dubious that any of you small-minded folks – no offense intended … well, maybe a little – even think there’s anything wrong with that!

But take a few seconds if you’re still with us and think about the very simple statement: people only care about themselves. As simple as that is, that one little phrase is at the heart of some of the biggest problems in American society today. Still don’t believe the Kid? Well, that’s the purpose of this entire manifesto here – to lay out the problem in all its simplicity is easy, but to convince the simple-minded public of its veracity and significance.

BrokenKid.com is a brand new site, and as of yet, the Kid has not implemented his magnificent plan to spread the gospel to the masses. So you who are reading this are the lucky ones and the enlightened ones. The Kid’s especially fond of you.

Now do what the Kid tells you and think a moment or two about the simple fact – for by this point you can only agree that it is fact – that people only care about themselves.

The extremely intelligent of you may have noticed the Broken Kid modified his own statement just above by bringing up American society. Truth be told, the Kid hasn’t traveled far outside of America. There is the occasional trip in his private jet to Mexico to take in the donkey sex shows and a good cock fight, and he often spends weeks on end in Monaco gambling in the highest-stakes games and accompanied by the highest-price hookers, but outside of those few excursions, the Kid stays relatively close to home. (Of course, Canada doesn’t count, for that’s just America with socialized medicine.)

And while the Kid strongly suspects that people are people and truths are truths, there is one simple issue that throws a monkey wrench into the works of any good manifesto: religion. People in the United States care fuck-all about religion, at least in comparison to those in less-fortunate locales. Look at the Middle East, for example. People are killing themselves in the name of religion (the promise of dozens of virgins and free booze is pretty compelling, the Kid’s got to admit), and anything with the power to make people destroy that which they hold most dear – themselves – is a little daunting.

But Americans aren’t that crazy. No, you won’t see your typical blue-blooded, overweight, debt-hog of an American killing himself or herself over anything as loosely theorized as religion. Not saying that Americans are too smart for that. By no means is your typical SUV-driving, Starbucks-sucking American citizen intelligent beyond simple tasks like tying one’s shoes and traversing the difficulties of a McDonald’s drive-through. But it’s comforting to know that the startling vastness of religious theories hold little sway here. Not so long as there’s burgers to eat and taxes to pay.

One might almost profess that the American worships not at the alter of a god but at the dinnertable and the checkbook. Your average American worships him or herself first and foremost, and even if they tell you otherwise, don’t you dare believe them. This is a country of selfishness by the people and for the people. Americans want what they want, and they want it now.

It’s as simple as that, friends. People only care about themselves. Spread the word, and ignore the blank stare of your vapid coworkers and friends and family members, because they’re the same as you are, and that doesn’t necessarily make you or them any worse for it. This kind of selfish self-awareness is bred into all of us, and it’s as natural today as buck teeth and pension funds were to our parents and their parents. But it’s a decidedly modern occurrence, and it’s one that can be changed.

The Manifesto of the Broken Kid is going to tell you why the biggest problem with American society – and, fuck it, society in general, virgins be damned – is that people only care about themselves. The Kid’s going to give you examples, and, friends, you will believe it! Listen to what the Kid’s preaching, and take it to heart. Maybe it will change a life or two.

This afternoon, the Kid was tooling about town in his 2007 special-edition Mercedes SL-Class (his choice mode of transportation when running errands and not wanting to stand out with his more flashy vehicles), and the radio was on. This isn’t common for the Kid, who suspects that if they can beam radio waves from towers into his car, they can probably beam mind-control waves into his head, and besides, there usually isn’t anything worthwhile on the radio these days.

This time, the Kid found himself enjoying a surprisingly eclectic mix of Sonic Youth, the Decemberists, and the Shins. But the other songs – mostly a mix of tunes from the mid-1990s – were the real treat. And this got the Broken Kid thinking about why most intelligent people view yesterday’s music – and not today’s – as preferable. What is it about time that makes music so much better?

It could be said, honestly, that it’s not just music that improves with time. All great art improves with the passing years, whether it’s great writing (the Kid is the exception of being honored in his own time), painting, sculpture, or music. Anything substantial or radical takes some getting used to, and while the pop or pulp has immediate appeal, it’s the original and tantalizing that takes some adaptation over time. Perhaps, too, it takes repetition – either repeated viewings or readings or listening – that helps it live up to its potential.

But there’s something to be said, too, for context. The Kid looks back at the 1990s as the time when he first came to appreciate original music – beyond its immediate pop appeal, of course. And the music that played during the Kid’s carefree globetrotting days filled with wine and women and illicit narcotics is sure to strike a chord simply due to the fact that it provided the soundtrack to a well-received time in life.

Today, the Kid isn’t a happy man by any means. In fact, he’s downright surly on a daily basis. But hearing music from a more beneficial time tweaks the Kid’s old heartstrings a tinge, and it’s a welcome distraction from the fact that those other motherfuckers on the road can’t drive worth a lick!

We’ve all seen these things from time to time when catching fire-and-brimstone preachers on Sunday mornings after a long night of drinking and debauchery or when flipping through the numerous cable access channels that are taking a break from showing artistic porn. When the medium isn’t trusted, it’s easy not to trust the presenter.

But this was not cable access, friends. This was CNN, and the clip was caught again (who knows how many times it was replayed) during prime time. The Kid has no patience for this sort of claptrap, but he caught a good five minutes or so before holding back his vomit and changing the channel. And assuming the clip didn’t end with the man saying “psyche!”, it goes to show how no media outlet these days can be trusted, when all the media wants to give us is extraordinary sensationalism instead of real news.

The diatribe this man was putting out went something like this: We’re already in World War III, and now Biblical prophesies are coming to pass. The leader in Iran is planning to bring about the end of the world by fostering strife in the Middle East and softening up Israel so Iran can move in to wipe the country out. And it’s all planned for August 22, which is apparently some holy Muslim day that commemorates Muhammad flying to heaven on his winged horse or something like that. And the Iranian president has already said he would wait until that day to reply to the world’s demands to shut down his country’s nuclear efforts.

It’s amazing how quickly the mainstream media moved to declare the battle between Israel and Lebanon as World War III. Sure, other countries are getting involved – in demanding peace. The issue is, of course, that the world sees Israel as the United States’ 51^st state, and since most of the world (and all of the Middle East except for Israel) hates the US, it would be easy enough for the world to get pulled into the crisis and take sides. There’s one thing the media forgets: no one wants to get into a war, at least none of the major powers do. Other than extremist governments, these countries are trying to avoid one. Makes sense, right?

In fact, most opinions state that there would never be another World War. This type of conflict would require more than one super power, and since the US holds most of the military strength in the world, it’s hard to imagine serious challenge, unless, perhaps, the rest of the world stands up against the US. And as long as the UK stands with the US, it’s highly unlikely that will ever happen.

So let’s not assume we’re in World War III, and let’s put aside for the moment that August 22, which commemorates some nighttime flight on a horse, is synonymous with cataclysmic events. We all know Iran wants to destroy us, and it wouldn’t be out of hand to think the country would take the rest of the world with it (sort of like one giant suicide bombing, right?). Let’s instead focus on the bigger issue: this is what CNN is presenting to its widespread audience as fact!

The Kid is reminded of the Heaven’s Gate cult, whose members committed suicide during the passing of the Hale-Bop comet, because that was when the world was going to end. Through the years, numerous “prophesies” have pointed toward particular dates as the coming of the end of the world. Remember 6/6/6? Remember the furor around January 1, 2000?

The Broken Kid doesn’t give much credence to these “momentous” dates. He’s convinced, anyway, that the world – or at least mankind’s role in it – will end the way it did in 28 Days Later: with the government unleashing some virus that turns people into flesh-eating zombies, who will devour all the survivors and eventually die out on their own, and we’ll all be studied three million years later by whatever lifeform ascends to the most intelligent and powerful on the planet – probably cockroaches.

In the meantime, let’s all step back and gather our wits about us and take a deep breath. Realize that strife in the Middle East has been going on for centuries, and there will always be strife based on their fundamental religious differences and beliefs. And there will always be some type of war, thanks to despots and – yes – world powers such as ours. And there will always be people telling us that the latest conflict or event is a sure-fire sign to clasp your hands and put your head between your knees.

But when the mainstream media starts preaching the end of the world … well then, my friends, it’s a sign that the media is no longer mainstream. It’s a sign that there’s no longer any worth in trusting a media that preaches supposition and faith-based theories. It’s a sign that we have to start thinking for ourselves.

So do what you’re probably already doing: block CNN and Fox News (especially Fox News) from your cable network and unlock the porn channels for your teenage children to enjoy, and start getting your facts from reputable sources. If that reputable source is the Internet, or alternative free newspapers, or the third-party candidate for your school board, use your own judgment. Don’t believe everything you hear… especially if it’s presented as fact.

They’re 5 miles high
As the crow flies
Leavin’ vapour trails
Across a blood red sky
Movin’ in from the East
Towards the West
With balaclava helmets
Over their heads
YES!

But if you think that Jesus Christ is coming
Honey, you’ve got another thing coming
If he ever finds out who’s hijacked his name
He’ll cut out his heart and turn in his grave

Islam is rising
The Christians mobilising
The world is on it’s elbows and knees
It’s forgotten the message
And worships the creeds

“It’s War” she cried
“It’s War” she cried
“This is War!”
Drop your possessions
All you simple folk
You will fight them on the beaches
in your underclothes
You will thank the good lord
For raising the Union Jack
You’ll watch the ships sail out of harbour
And the bodies come floating back
Watch the ships sail out of harbour
And the bodies come floating back

If the real Jesus Christ were to stand up today
He’d be gunned down cold by the C.I.A.
Oh, the lights that now burn brightest
Behind stained glass
Will cast the darkest shadows
Upon the human heart
But God didn’t build himself that throne
God doesn’t live in Israel or Rome
God doesn’t belong to the Yankee dollar
God doesn’t plant the bombs for Hezbollah
God doesn’t even go to church
And God won’t send us down to Allah to burn
God will remind us what we already know
That the human race is about to reap what it’s sown

Islam is rising
The Christians mobilising
The world is on it’s elbows and knees
It’s forgotten the message
And worships the creeds
The world is on it’s elbows and knees
It’s forgotten the message
And worships the creeds

Armageddon days are here again
Armageddon days are here again
Armageddon days are here again
Armageddon Days Are HERE!!!

- The The, “Armageddon Days are Here Again”

The world is on a precipice, my friends. Can you see it? Can you feel it? We are teetering precariously, and the slightest breath just may push it all over the edge.

Sit down and listen to the Broken Kid tell you about it.

manifesto (n): A written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer.

Ted “Unabomber” Kasczynski and the Communist Party (separately, although what a great coupling that would be) should no longer hold a monopoly on the term manifesto. The time has come for someone to draft a manifesto for the modern age.

There are problems, my friends – serious problems with the world as a whole and our society in particular. We go about our days oblivious and indifferent to these problems, closing our eyes or turning our heads to avoid staring straight at these issues. Because we’re afraid to face the problems of society, afraid to let these things in and make them a part of our own troubled lives.

Of course, the continuous disregard for the world’s problems only leads to their widespread proliferation. Without acknowledging the plagues upon us today, we will not cure them. Instead, one thing piles on another, and we’re left with the steaming pile of dung that we’ve made of our world.

Do you feel the fear in the air today? There is a palpable sense of desperation and anxiety that permeates through every layer of a common man’s daily life. Perhaps the Broken Kid is more attuned to these things than the average commoner, but it’s evident that the pall hangs over us all. It works its way into conversations with our mothers, our favorite situation comedies, our sporting events and company picnics and regular visits to the grocery store. There’s simply no way to avoid the glaring fact that the world is struggling, and we are all struggling within it.

Don’t get the Kid started on religion, folks. There are people who claim we’re in the End Days, facing the impending Apocalypse, and these proclamations have started to make their way on to the evening news and afternoon talk shows. Disregard those proposals, my friends. The world has faced disaster and devastation before, and it will face it again. When the world ends, it will surely end slowly and imperceptibly. Because the very planet and its creations are far stronger than science and faith.

It’s mankind, however, that may be facing its biggest challenges in historical memory. There are the obvious obstacles, of course: war, poverty, super germs, the rising cost of gasoline, Republican-run Congresses, too-thin celebrities, and the like. But there are less obvious problems that are, surely, in large part responsible for these disasters. There’s a changing mindset in society. The Kid has watched it happen, seen how people have changed from the Kid’s own childhood. It happened just slowly enough, however, that it hasn’t dawned on most people that their own perception and personality are responsible for the downfall of society and the destruction of civil norms and values.

The Broken Kid isn’t much for solutions. That’s because the Kid believes it’s more important, at this point in time, to point out the problems of the world. Solving those problems is up to far more important people. But the real beginning to a solution is in changing the mindset of a population.

Open your eyes, people. Mankind is out to destroy itself, and not merely in grandiose ways involving disaster and destruction but in miniscule ways that equate to blanching the soul and diminishing the simple value each and every one of us possesses.

Bring your children over by your crackling monitor and hold hands. Play some soft music and tip your glasses of suitably aged wine. There needs to be a revolution, my friends, and perhaps it can happen here. Perhaps not. The Broken Kid will understand if minds can’t be changed. The Broken Kid does not cater to the lowest common denominator. But if one person’s eyes can be opened and one person can be entertained in the process, the Kid’s work will be done.