Rock On, Bindi

Rock On, Bindi

But something tonight clicked in my head when I read that his 8-year old daughter Bindi is doing a TV show, to some extent carrying on her dad's work.

I think that's fucking great. A little kid entering into a potentially dangerous world because not only did a parent not try to shelter her too much, he did that shit himself.

People are such PUSSIES anymore. I'm not into playing with dangerous animals, in fact I think the guy was slightly nuts from the times I saw him, but so what? It was a CHOICE he made, just like the choice most people make to stay away from anything remotely dangerous as much as possible. Fuck that.

We're all so much into safety and security and maintaining a certain bland lifestyle, that we've forgotten that it's far MORE dangerous for our well-being to become a collection of bloated shitbags who do nothing, feel nothing, and say nothing unless it's ACCEPTABLE by a horseshit standard we've invented.

You know what? There's worse things than dying. Being dead on the inside, for instance. Sitting on your ass eating shitty processed foods, watching brainless television, accepting mediocrity in all sections of life because it's SAFER. Breaking news - it's NOT. That shit will kill you too, it only takes a different route there.

Bindi's dad died at age 44. Too young? Maybe. It's also nothing of a surprise, really. Play with fire, scorch your ass. It happens.

But I'd rather have 44 years that stretch my abilities, make me feel I'm truly alive, and serve as an inspiration for others to get off their asses and go enjoy life, than to live 88 years of flaccid servitude to a shit system that has us all convinced that longevity and "good health" are more important than LIFE.

I hope my kid gets to watch Bindi in action. And learns somthing more valuable than she'll ever get in school - they way you live is far, far more important than the way you die.

Love,
Dougie