Digging Our Own Graves

It’s bollocks. We are agreed. Utter pretentious nonsense. Self-indulgent waffle, supported by a cushion of who-you-know and money, signifying nothing. We lift our glasses, united in our comfortable contempt. We raise our flag. We have standards. We are capable of better.
And then the uncomfortable truth. How, exactly, will we achieve this? What greater peaks can we scale? A molehill of substance would tower over this mountain of conceit, but which of us will dig themselves out of their tunnels of silence? What will we actually do?
We sink into self-denial and self-sabotage. Better the devil you don’t want to know than the one you daren’t.