minimal observances part 1:
it's getting dangerous.
i wasn't born in time to experience the late 60's, wherein drug fueled hippies took the last push to knock the pyramid over. it takes many pushes. like knocking over any large, heavy object over it requires rocking it back and fourth several times until gravity decides to join you and finally knock that fucker over.
i was born by the time they had wrapped everything up. they killed both kennedys, and m.l.k. a shot across the bow. never again will any substance enter the government. we'll dazzle you with showmen, rodeo clowns, ideology sick freaks, and the occasional perceived level head. no one now will dare disrupt our plans to throw the society overboard now that we've slain the brave. we are the home of the brave, however only in packaging now.
a two party system is like a cola war. everyone has their favorite brand. this is the illusion of choice. like magnets that push against each other, right and left hold each other up. their supporters don't think so. then again, who has the time nowadays?
it would be interesting, at least to me and the scant voices that creep out from behind my brain at times, if all the billboards and posters that are selling products, be it food, liquor, or electronics, replaced their logos and images with a simple photo of their c.e.o.'s. disturbing at best. maybe downright orwellian. truth in advertising i say. that's not the salesman purpose however. it's to entice, confuse, and beat you down with it's repetition and bright, primary colors.
my thoughts crossed my eyes again. i'll focus again.
the left and right have an invested interest in each other. christ isn't around anymore so they have to crucify each other. pepsi or coke? yankees or red sox? cheer at the pantheon which is now the digital stage. newsmen are gone. true reporters have faded. the current of the wind determines what stance they will take. straw and exit polls determine your fate.
sadly though, like a coffin being laid into the ground, we are all mourners, watching the death of honesty and true progression lowered 7 feet in a steel lined, top shelf casket that was sold like a car dealer. it's important that the bugs don't eat our emptied bodies too soon. we must die in luxury. even in death we are spoiled. even in death we require that our egos be fed, on shitty greasy food, on mindless television plot, on trophy spouses, on bigger and better versions of everything that's only now, just nearly a day old.
i once got in trouble for smoking pot. i should have known better than to cheat a a game like monopoly. my silver representation moves across the board after i roll the dice and i keep landing on properties i already own. if i were younger, i would have started my drug regiment much earlier. only this time, a man or woman, with a degree who knows nothing about me would decide that i needed to relax at 7 years old. who knows better i suppose. pink floyd i imagine doesn't sound better or worse. no matter, you take take your drug of choice as long as it's one that's taxed to the hilt or you have to sell someone else's soul for a 30 day supply. ....dime bags are much cheaper.
the money in my wallet is a lie. the ever more colored paper, with images of men i learned of in school used to represent something. it used to resemble gold somewhere. the amount of gold determined by the number on each of it's four corners. it hasn't in a long time. it had been moved onto silver,...now, it has moved on to nothing. just dry threaded paper. an illegal currency for these, the oddest of times. gold is worth something? an element that doesn't oxidize. a theoretical worth determined by people who know no more than we do. the economy is fake, we're courted by a fraud. the only thing of value is now being collected, envelope by envelope, to money for gold commercials who will gladly exchange free shipping for the chance to pay you 10 cents on the dollar for the last commodity left in the free world now that the dollar has let out it's last breath and will not return to inhale again.
