Choose to Lose: Losercore '99

When Pontius Barnham, the most eloquent wino on the strip, stands at the corner of Elm and Maple and desperately cries, "I have lost at the game of life! I have fallen beneath the wheel of America!"--has anybody thought to tell him to just shut up, eat his cold canned pasta, and drink his Mad Dog? After all, isn't it his responsibility to enjoy his lifestyle and make the best of his situation? Everybody must come to a point in their lives where they take a good look at all their accomplishments and ask, "Is that all there is?"

Everywhere you look it's the spoiled fruits of prosperity. Solar powered houses with all their fixtures and appliances controlled by computers. Car seats with heat pads to keep your ass nice and toasty while you drive. Microwaves that cook your food so fast you barely have time to be hungry. It seems everyday a gadget is invented to fix a problem that no one knew existed until the gadget fixed it. This madness has got to stop. That is why I urge the youth of today to join me in the new movement called Losercore. Losercore is not just a passing fad. It's a lifestyle.

What of the confessed self-satisfied loser? The guy who is not afraid to admit he is an utter failure in life, and even enjoys it. Myself, for example. I enjoy watching people chase each other around in one huge rat-race. Each one trying to one-up the other, all in an effort to achieve the glory and plentiful onion booty that success offers. In their ceaseless efforts, winners and strivers always seem to miss out on the little things in life. Ever see beauty in the way a freshly minted dime sparkles? I have.

Everyday, Mr. Bigglesworth wakes up in corporate America, dons his power suit like a fiscal superhero, gets in his corporate car and drives to his corporate job. While at the job, Bigglesworth always keeps his eyes on the prize and always mantains a level of gusto for the business world as it stands. What there is to gain from the business world always seems so infinitely appealing to him. This man is cursed with ambition simply because he's decided he has something to gain.

Does he really? For example, Bigglesworth always keeps his eyes peeled for his ideal mate. A blonde chick with obscenely large breasts and low IQ. He drools over her image in countless magazines. He daydreams about her during many a business meeting. He even convinces himself he must make the big bucks to buy a fancy car so he can win the hand of this hot tamale. Surely she won't sit her pretty little ass on any car seat that is not fine leather.

Isn't this in itself pretty pathetic? What's the point of pissing your life away for a bodacious babe with implants? Has anybody taken a good look at Bill Gates, wondered what his motivations truly are, and pitied the guy like I do?

What about the rich and famous? They are always reduced to rambling on about themselves for badly written magazines destined to line kitty litters or end up in rat-infested landfills. Before their fifteen minutes of fame fizzles, a good number of the rich and famous manage the mental feat of convincing themselves they're "truly blessed". And they are. Not because they are rich and famous, but because they have convinced themselves they are "truly blessed". We can all be "truly blessed" if we take after Dorothy of The Wizard of Oz and just close our eyes, click our ruby slippers together three times, and repeat "There's no place like home."

"I urge you to stand weak in the face of adversity and lose until there is nothing left."

Some say it's unhealthy to be a chronic loser. To this I reply that American mental health and stability is just Bourgeois snobbery turned science. In order for someone to be well-adjusted, they must have faith in everything modern. They must let such words as healthy, nutritious, and rational roll off their sated tongues with an emphatic reverence, as if the words themselves magically transport them above and beyond that strange guy who talks to trees. The only images these words bring to my mind are those of bottled water, happy pills, and Sunday drives in the country. "There's no place like home. There's no place like home..."

If all else fails, think of success as a worn-out cliche. What America really needs is more losers to hold up the back and cheer the winners on. After all, there are no winners without losers, because winners require losers. I'm basically saying that if we had more losers we'd also have more winners and...or maybe not.

Anyway, let's face it. There are just so many things to fail at! And for those unlucky few accustomed to winning, I advise losing at the little things first. Try beating Tetris. Agree with your girlfriend when she tells you she's fat. Vote for a Libertarian candidate. Pretty soon you will be well on your way to achieving absolutely nothing.

First, I must warn you that sometimes you may be tempted to veer off the thorny path of let-down after let-down. I urge you to stand weak in the face of adversity and lose until there is nothing left. Then and only then will you truly be Losercore.

In the end, I ask that every "truly blessed" Losercore dude be fully prepared to wake up every morning, look in the mirror and while shaking his head, say "Man! I really FUCKED up this time!"

For more on Losercore '99, visit Wet Devoh: the zine.