Cavemen unquestionably had things made. Imagine how much life would rule if we were all still cavemen. We wouldn’t have to get up to go to school or to jobs we hate; instead, we would just sleep as late as we wanted. We wouldn’t have to worry about stupid fashion or appearances or any of that shit. We would all wear the same tattered animal skin that we did the day before, we would never bathe, our hair would be in matted dreadlocks down to our knees, and our beards would be to our chests. Everyone would smell terrible and no one would give a shit. Our only concerns that day would be finding something, killing it, and then eating it. There would be no elaborate mind games or other stupid shit involved in getting laid; we would all just bang each other naturally based on instinct. Any disputes would be settled by beating the shit out of each other. Awesome.

That is how humans were meant to live. Sure, there was no internet or TV, and you risked getting killed every day, but you were totally and truly free. You had no obligations. You didn’t have to worry about doing mounds of pointless paperwork, or pretending you like intolerable people because they control your grades or pay raises. Life was simple, care free, and to the point. Perhaps the only thing better than being a caveman would be to be a viking, a ronin, or a pirate. I would love to be a viking. Think about it. You get up every morning ready for another day of plunder and destruction. In the early morning dawn, as the light and clouds drift across the snowy plains, you sharpen your sword, but not before banging the shit out of your hot ass Norse wife. You get decked out in badass armor, and never have to worry about doing laundry or cleaning the bloodstains off your shirt…here they are badges of honor. You load up in the longboat with your brothers in arms, and you sail to some pitiful little coastal village. Rather than relying on their own strength and cunning to protect them, the pansies in this village rely on the power of “God” or whatever, and flee to the church with all their belongings. Excellent. They are collecting all their wealth in one easy place to be plundered. You pull up on the shore, and as a few pasty villagers charge you with wooden sticks you cleave their heads in two with one swipe of your broadsword. After mercilessly slaying all resistance with your berserker fury, you burn the church to the ground, take all the gold and the hot women, and go back home. That night you get wasted on mead or ale and drink to the glory of battle, courage, and Odin. You do the same thing the next day, and you don’t give a shit about dying because when you do die you will go to Valhalla. Do you comprehend now how much Norse culture ruled? Almost every other culture’s perception of heaven is a place to “rest” away from “worldly” troubles or whatever. The Viking idea of heaven was eternal battle, it was nothing more than a continuation of their daily lives. More to the point, this indicates the Vikings fucking loved their daily lives, which is more than I can say for most people in the present state of affairs. In Valhalla you fight every day with the enemies of the Gods, and then your wounds regenerate overnight while you eat at a bigass feast and fuck Valkyries. Words cannot express how much these people and their mythology own everything. Even the Norse gods were awesome. At Ragnarok, the end of the world, they knew they were destined to die. Did they give a shit? Hell no. They went right on fighting to the bitter end to FUCK SHIT UP. That is what the Viking spirit is all about. Even when you know you’re doomed and it’s all hopeless, you don’t just lie down like a bitch and accept the will of Fate. You go down in a maelstrom of fury and fire, battle and blood, sending as many motherfuckers to Hell ahead of you as possible, and die a hero’s death with a glory and honor that will live on forever. Hundreds of years later, people will still be talking about how much you ruled, and about the massive “Fuck You Too” you hand delivered to the universe.

Competing with Vikings for the top spot of, “History’s Greatest Badasses” were the ronin. The ronin were Japanese ex-samurai (I’m sure these dudes were all over Asia; I just don’t know the name for it in other countries) who had either belonged to a clan that got wiped out or got kicked out for being too awesome. The ronin had pretty much the ideal life; they just got to wander around the world, making their living by their wits and their sword, having no debts and owing nothing to anyone. Ronin never had to worry about putting gel in their hair or getting shit if their clothes weren’t from Hollister. They just dressed in simple robes or rags, and if some pampered dandy mocked them for it, they would likely beat the idiocy out of them with their sheathed sword just for that extra humiliation factor. Looks like your fancy clothes didn’t keep you from getting your lumpy ass handed to you with a side of rice, did they asshole? Of course, that rarely happened in previous centuries, because people were smart enough to realize that clothing had nothing to do with someone’s inner self. Therefore, we are getting dumber. World War 3 will not be between countries…it will be between those loyal to Coke and those loyal to Pepsi. But I digress. A typical day for a ronin consists of waking up, practicing their totally badass sword skills, sitting in quiet contemplation on a serene, peaceful mountain, and liberating townspeople from their oppressors…all before breakfast, which consists of a small bowl of rice. They didn’t have to file any documents or take shit from morons. If someone pissed them off by making up an unreasonable request, say demanding a project that wasn’t due until Monday that they suddenly decided was due Friday, they didn’t have to sheepishly grin and say they’d have it in by the end of the day. They would just narrow their eyes, look at you for about five seconds (if they were feeling generous) to give you time to prepare for the dread embrace of the Grim Reaper, and chop you into a million bloody little pieces. Case closed, problem solved, next please. Even though most ronins just wanted to look out for themselves, movies and anime series have taught us that they are often forced into situations where they must defend the innocent against injustice and become champions of the people. Some people may be squealing about historical inaccuracies in this article by now, but those people are ruining my escapist fantasy, so they should go jerk off to Hellenic Greek sculptures like I’m sure they already were doing. Anyway, like I was saying, the ronin were often forced into situations where they had to fuck shit up. For example, a greedy lord might be forcing the farmers to give him all their harvest, and raping their cute-yet-hot daughters. Since that sort of thing seriously pisses off badasses, the ronin would simply stroll into the lord’s castle, kill all his guards in like ten or eleven sword swipes, and then make some snide and witty comment before beheading the lord. Tons of asian hotties would throw themselves at the ronin, which he would decide to bed or not to bed, depending on how charitable he was feeling towards women that day. After a long day of brutal slaughter, and a hard evening of banging hot asian chicks, the ronin would wander off into the sunset onto his next adventure. Much like Vikings, ronin didn’t really care if they died, because dying in honorable battle is nothing to get all worked up about. If a ronin was sure that by his death he could make a real, lasting impression on the world for the better, he would gleefully leap into the fiery maw of Hell to be locked in infernal combat with Lucifer himself for all eternity. The only thing that ronin are afraid of is becoming an inefficient, worthless bureaucrat whose entire life consists of filing documents and writing stupid essays. The thought of lying on their deathbed with nothing to show but worthless busy-work and a 401k makes ronin wake up screaming, followed by starting up idiotic websites.

Although they weren’t quite as hardcore as Vikings or ronin, pirates were also some very cool dudes. The key word in the pirate way of life is freedom. I would love to be a pirate. Imagine never having to work at a soul-crushing, boring job again. Imagine never having to go to another pointless class or write another stupid paper that you don’t care about on your path to a life of tedious misery. Imagine that everytime someone gave you shit, you could just slug them in the face or burn down their town, and no police or army would be enough to stop you and your salty brothers. The best modern example of the pirate spirit that I can think of is, easily enough, in the movie Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s the final scene of the movie. Captain Jack has just gotten his ship back, the sun is shining across the sea, and he looks sort of halfway into the camera and you know that both he and audience know…he is completely free. With the wind in his sails, he can go anywhere and do anything. If I hadn’t already given it up in exchange for a bunch of heavy metal albums, I would sell my soul to be a pirate and have that type of freedom. Everyday I would just wake up on my ship and breathe the clean, salty sea air. Years of sailing would have toughened my body to a level unheard of today, and I would have a badass pair of boots, a gun, a sword, and possibly a hat. My only worries in life would be government ships or other pirates, but since I am basically a super genius, I wouldn’t have to worry about getting caught. In the rare event that my superior sailing skills availed me not, I would just kill everyone who messed with me. My days would be lived out on sandy, tropical beaches drunk on rum and fucking beautiful, sultry, sun tanned women. When I finally died from sexual exhaustion, I would place a pirate curse on all my treasure, so if anyone else tried to profit from my hard work they would get dragged into the black depths of the sea by a creature so evil that hell spit it back out…me.

People were not meant to live like this. We weren’t meant to slave away day after boring day doing things we despise just to make a buck, so we can live like robot drones. We were not meant to repeat the self perpetuating, dead end cycle of Work, Earn, Consume, Be Happy. We weren’t meant to be trapped in a system that rewards those already in power, regardless of how slovenly and stupid they may be. We weren’t meant to always suppress our true selves and our primal urges to knuckle under the demands of a society of fakeness and cowardice. We’re not supposed to have to smile and nod along to idiots’ unreasonable demands over and over and over, until we feel so pathetic, beaten, and dead inside that we know for sure the last of our pride has finally been extinguished like the last flickering, dying embers of a forgotten fire that burned out long ago.

People were not meant to live like this. I hate my life a lot of the time, so I write about the life I wish I had. Is anyone with me on this?