Forsaken by the Norns

An exceedingly menial existence has been conferred upon us. We live in a world where integrity is regularly sacrificed for cronyism or a quick buck. Honor and loyalty are dead but deceit and disgrace are burgeoning like never before. The disciples of cold-blooded ambition continue to grow in numbers but remain blind to the overarching worthlessness of their own set of circumstances. A strong sense of urgency (that’s bullshit-speak for the ability to behave like a distraught cow during stressful situations) has somehow become a desirable trait. The education system charges full-steam ahead on its path towards total futility (if it’s not there already) because, beyond the age of ten, you won’t ever actually use or need to know anything you learn in school anyway (but good luck finding employment doing something pointless if you don’t possess the superfluous educational requirements). In the end nothing matters and we all just drift onwards, slaves to the omnipotent machine.

But the world was not always so bleak. Whether from the adrenaline rush of raping and pillaging or from the indescribable pain and humiliation of being raped and pillaged, there was a time when life actually felt like being alive. There was actually a point to it all: the norns wove the destinies of everyone and they took their duties seriously, ensuring that moments of dull asininity were few and far between. Seldom did a man or woman get doomed into a completely pointless, zombie-like trance for the duration of his or her time on Midgård.

So, where in fuck’s name are the norns now? Presumably piss-drunk, lying face down in the gutter behind some ethereal dumpster. How else can we explain the pointlessly boring yet inescapable lot in life to which the vast majority of us have been consigned? If the norns were there, doing what they should be doing, our lives would be a lot more fulfilling.

All Vikings (not to be confused with Norsemen—technically speaking, the Vikings were only those seagoing members of Norse society who left their homes to lay some serious hurt on everyone else) led meaningful, interesting lives. Sure, some may have suffered from terrible woes and tragedies, but that didn’t stop them from living life to the fullest. Consider the Vikings’ defeat at Stamford Bridge in 1066—was it not a collective, meaningful life experience that ended in massive slaughter? Or how about the time when Ingvar the Far-Traveled and most of his men perished far from home in Särkland? That journey was so wrought with meaning that numerous runestones raised to its honor still dot the Swedish landscape.

Even those Norse who didn’t strictly qualify as Vikings led significantly more purposeful lives than those that are thrust upon us in modern society. Take the story about Grettir the Strong, for example. That guy was murdered after having spent nearly twenty years in exile all because he killed a fucking ghost. But if killing a ghost doesn’t inject enough meaning into your life to last for the duration, then I don’t know what does.

And what about the livelihoods of the average Norse farmhands? I’ll admit, they’re a bit more of an enigma. On the one hand, the poor living conditions and constant struggle for survival must have sucked something fierce, but the daily pursuit of tasks that were designed to produce actual, physical food must have been infinitely more fulfilling than the daily participation in the mass creation/distribution/evaluation of something stupid that no one really cares about. Besides, the additional farm duties, such as practicing at battle, constructing/repairing defensive structures, and slaughtering swine, must have been a hell of a lot better than standing behind a counter or staring at a godforsaken Microsoft Office program all day.

So, it should come as no surprise that I’m usually pretty astonished whenever I notice the sporadic signs in our world that suggest the norns are still there, weaving the tapestries of the fortunate few. In this regard the entire Modern Viking Movement essentially served as one gigantic billboard: Trond Troll-Breath, Ingrid Törnblom, and all the other modern Vikings are living proof that the preferred treatment isn’t just a hollow myth. Same thing goes for Peter Forsberg and Skwisgaar Skwigelf. Sadly, such lucky individuals are extremely hard to come by these days, because the norns have left most of us completely and utterly forsaken. But be that as it may, I can’t begrudge the norns themselves on a personal level, because in all honesty, I understand. I don’t enjoy showing up for work either.


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One Response to “Forsaken by the Norns”

  1. Thorkel says:

    Skål Earslings. All vikings should know that the norns are cruel and enjoy irony. The Saga’s, those surviving verbal histories of our people preserved in text, tell us that loyalty is not always repaid and honesty is not necessarily rewarded.
    For those with a wish to occupy the heroic halls of Valhalla and have the oportunity to regale us of tales for eternity, here is an irony for you that will gobsmack the norns and let every self respecting viking do a double take.
    Take to the sea in your dragon ships and assail the whale pirates of the rising sun. This brave and futile (albeit short) quest will gain fame enough to resound the hallowed halls for many a long year. The vision of the new age vikings rowing their dracca into the swell of the southern ocean, their beards and hair frosted with ice crystals, their bodies and battle rage fortified with strong meade, conjures up an amazing image. Forget not, to grip your weapons tight as you sink down into the cold dark depths, so the entrance price for an eternity of feasting, fighting and wenching can be paid. The opportunity for plunder and battle to protect the leviathans that were such a danger and bane to our viking ancestors keels, and which were also recently hunted by the now famous Troll Breath has so much sweet irony. With such bravery and foolish futility, the norns may even let some chosen few succeed.
    But then, there is always the x-box.
    Skål Earslings.

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