What is a phoney?
A phoney is a lost creature. At first it may seem to be beheaded but if you look closely enough you’ll notice the head is still attached just folded over like an inverted “L”. A phoney tends to stare aimlessly at its palms which often speak back instructions on where to roam. The palms of a phoney glow blue and in the dead of night, you can see their pale downward-facing faces illuminated by them. They tap and scroll and quest every hour for validation with a form of crypto-currency called a notification. A red coin that falls into the empty chamber that once contained their soul; the red emblem of communism reminding them of the blood that must be spilled to power their devices. “Spill it!” they secretly yearn in their morbid hearts.
A phoney gladly gives up any freedoms it may posses for free goods; and will always find beauty in ugliness in order to justify its own unkempt appearance and environment. This is also why a phoney venerates the downtrodden instead of heroes and takes pride in failure over successes. A phoney willingly ignores and forgets that what is free and unlabored, by definition, has no value. And what value it has is merely illusory like the empty pride they carry on their bent backs as they stare aimlessly at their battery powered hands. But when their battery dies, so does their sense of purpose, until they find their purpose renewed when seeking to find an outlet.
But there truly are no outlets. None of the ones they really need. No outlets for love and affection, no outlets for purpose and pride. No outlets for anything that is remotely related to being sentient. Because the phoney refuses real intimacy with others and turns to hedonism instead. A phoney refuses deep and meaningful conversation and turns to gossip through status updates and private chat groups instead. The phoney never seeks truth, especially when it hurts. Instead the phoney is ever questing to find those truths that confirm their own biases and sense of self hurt. A phoney always seeks to feel better about their own imperfections by finding faults in others, especially among those that are admired. The phoney also seeks that which fuels their indignation with the world so they can remain ever disengaged with it and justify their perpetual addiction to their grievances.
When virtues are up for sale, phoneys gladly give theirs away in exchange for the right to feel generous without the inconvenience of being so. So a phoney will march, will chant will vote other people’s money into any group that claims to do the “good” works. Then they broadcasts their donations for all other phoneys to admire. “ding-ding-ding!” goes their red notification making the phoney smile.
Don’t be a phoney!
Be a huemen!
A huemen must look up in order to see the path that lies ahead. A huemen stands erect with its head up tall atop a foundation of principles. A huemen judges life only through its own perceptions and not through the perceptions of others. A huemen seeks to enhance its own senses and not dumb them down. A huemen seeks clarity and sobriety but never intoxication or numbness. A huemen seeks engagement and not avoidance.
A huemen has a profound dislike for gossip and stands clear from labels and ideologies. A huemen uses imagination, only as a source of inspiration, but never as the destination. A huemen admires beauty and applauds bravery. A huemen finds pride in their own accomplishments, and those of others, however small and however large.
A huemen takes what the earth has given them and transforms it into something of value to others. A huemen builds and serves its fellows. Even if it means making phones for phoneys.
So the choice is yours: I say, be a huemen.