{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

To demonize those who make a conscious decision not to procreate stinks of dishonesty.

It is the same kind of maddening dishonesty which accounts for the denial of their own inherent misery.

Scenario:  Approaching a community grill with ground beef, preparing to cook ground beef "hamburgers," a couple asks me how I am doing.   My initial knee-jerk response is, "Oh, alright, I guess ... if I were more honest, I would say I am miserable."

They both appear concerned, "Why? What's wrong?"

"It's just the human condition, I suppose."

Silence.

A depressing mood begins to germinate, the kind of moods a Schopenhauer or a Cioran must have been in whenever they were inspired to articulate "how they were doing."

Why do you think so few people are open and up front about the true nature of "how they are doing?"   

The older I get, the more clear it becomes that to expect honesty from other people in such matters to to set oneself up to be tormented by compulsive liars.

What bullies they are to demand we ignore our own experience!

Maybe it is best that I am unable to articulate my disgust and disillusionment with life.   

No wonder an honest man is always in trouble.   The confederacy of liars will band together to mock the ones with enough confidence to call this life out for what it is.