To slack, reality can be a real drag. In fact, realism is just that; a maudlin meditation on the frictions and entropies of existence, the messiness of stuff gumming up the works, obfuscating and occluding the clarity of forms so dutifully floating in ideal empty space, tracing arcs and lines of Pythagorean purity. A squared + B squared = C squared.
But that never happens, for real.
Reality is also the daily dose of hierarchy and paradigm. The calculus that reminds you how totally screwed you are. Welcome to the state of nature, buddy, you are about to have to swallow a dog’s breakfast of rhetoric and unmitigated lies just to get through the day. Don’t like it? Too bad.
Any escape into fantasy and the un-real you are planning is about to be co-opted by those dour, Puritanical realists. For all the reasons above, and many more, slack avoids reality. When it comes to the real, it’s “check, please…”