The chicken is pissed off.

No witty title, no jokes. The chicken is in a very mysanthropic mood, and I am afraid you will have to bear with me.

I've long been ranting about clubs. ....And I am not the only one. Tonight, though, was the tipping point.
I am as sober as I can be, perhaps this is my main problem. In my sobriety, I figured out the point of alcohol: of course, it serves the purpose of social cohesion, no doubt. It helps people get laid, beer goggles are as factual as gravity. Yet, its primary function, by far, must be tolerance. People get drunk in order to be able to tolerate other drunk people. No alcohol, no problem. Alcohol is self-serving and paradoxical, since you only drink it to help you deal with a problem that you wouldn't have in the first place, had there not been alcohol. A few cute guys in that club, granted, but as soon as you see them shake back and forth, as they try to figure out whether you're cute enough so they could approach you, spit on you and spill cheap beer over you in their attempt to mate, any cuteness and attraction is bound to evaporate.

I've learned never to leave my jacket or coat at the wardrobe. We spent no less than 30 mins, taking miniscule steps down a staircase, being pushed, pinched, spit at, joked with, giggled at by random morons, who, as the previous point suggests, had no idea how to handle their drink. Lesson learned: never leave your coat at the wardrobe.

Clubs will show you the essence of humanity. It will show you everything. It will show you the petty attempts of girls to hold up to the standards of beauty, covering their faces with make up, pushing up whatever little breasts they have and emphasising them with a belt under their breasts which will also detract attention from their tummies. It will show you the fat friends of the pretty girls, trying so hard to be pretty, to fit in, to be liked. And when someone does hit on them, they will take petty pride in shooting them down, because it will make them feel superior and as pretty as their attractive friends, even if just for a second. It will show you pretense, fakeness and ugliness, metaphorical more so than physical, like no other place. It will show you the silly little childish emotions of humans, who just try too fucking hard. To be cool, to be liked, to have sex. Stop looking for approval from others before you even like yourself, stop disrespecting yourself like you disrespect others, grow a spine, keep some dignity and for the love of God, stop pushing me! Hundreds and thousands of people pushing to go to this club and not the other, because it's "hip". Had there been a fire there tonight, there'd be nothing for you to read, I'd have been dead. It was so crowded, literally you couldn't drop a needle on the floor. Being asked to pay the ridiculous 7 euros (and of course, often enough prices are higher) just to get in. Based on what? Because it's saturday. I don't fucking care what day it is. No, there was no band, it was just their ordinary DJ, who, by the way, had he worked a normal job, would be fired for his incompetence. To ask people to pay just to get into a club is proposterous, never have I understood it or endorsed it, and this was the final nail in the coffin. Out of sheer principle I am never paying to get into a club of any description, without a damn good reason.

Clubs will also show you men at their lowest, trying to get laid, not with their charm, intelligence, or even looks. No, he gets smashed, assuming that the degree to which he is soaked somehow translates into the degree to which a girl's pants should be soaked for him. Then they push you in what is a stupifying resemblance with the emotional intelligence of a 3rd grader. Well done. You reckon that pretending to barf next to a girl will get her attention, get you laid and you'll be a man in front of your friends again? Yes, indeed, that is what Shakespeare, Wilde and Austen meant, that is what all grand stories in literature are based on.

Clubs will bring out people's insecurities, they bring out the worst in them- getting drunk, getting violent, superiority and ego. Never mind the unreasonably high prices, the slow service, the pushing and crowds, the bad music, the sweat and drunk morons who stumble on you. I am willing to eat my own words; when we talk about Heaven and Hell, as far as I am concerned, we're not talking about some chimerical notions that happen to you when you die. They are now right here, and nothing is worse than the Hell you make for yourself.