Sunday, November 22, 2009

Who's Going To Steal the Peanut Butter?

Two worlds so vastly out of proportion to each paint a phony reality of who, and what, we were. The future will look back on our television shows as glimpses into ‘reality’ trying hard to understand who we were, so they can try to figure out who they are. To me, the 60-70’s never existed, and my only vision of them are from the images of Woodstock, JFK, Chicago Riots, All in the Family, the Jeffersons, Sanford and Sons, great music, PBS documentaries, and fun drugs. Only the history deemed appropriate to know by mainly the artists who lived it, survived; leaving behind a lot of reality in the process. I wish I could ride a bus through Chicago in 1965 to really understand the world I never knew.

What the future will see of us is a tribe of overly sexual, under sexed, babies, consumed only by product and appearance, often battling each other over money and fame. Ok, so maybe it’s not too far off. But if that is how they see our culture, how will they apply it to our greatest document, and the phrase, “the pursuit of happiness”? The interpretation takes on a whole new meaning if the culture is defined by its selfish appearance and violent demeanor.

I call an act to congress to save all security tapes, on all major cities buses, as an archive of the Real America. You would see the faces of immigrants that really are over worked and underpaid, but thankful to have jobs. You will see the faces of the young men already giving it up joining the gangs of the early dead. The thin faces of the addict, along with the fat faces of the greedy. The old faces of history, and the young faces of future. The cleaning lady, the sleazy barmaid, the paranoid yuppie, the guy who just wants to get home and get to sleep, the I-POD hipster, the girl who struck out, the lovers who found each other, the emo skater, the nerd on his lap top, the trannies, the homosexuals, the drunks, the partiers, and the walking dead all going somewhere together, without ever really going anywhere at all. It’s the same faces and the same cycle of simplistic existence every day. The wheels on the bus go round and round, round and round, round and round….

What the TV tells us is that the top news story is a hardly a concern to anybody who isn’t a happy little housewife. Oprah is leaving her show. Shocking I know, please get off the floor and regroup. But for ten minutes of a 23 minute news cast the fallout of Oprah, was all what was spoken of. 25 years and now she’s walking out on her own terms. Meanwhile on the bus, the thought that job security is something our generation will never know crosses my mind as I think of my friends and the fact we’re all in the same boat searching for a beacon. Landing a job at a young age and holding it until you retire, always knowing you’re place, and that you can support your family is gone. Job security has been sold overseas for cheaper slaves by the least patriotic of criminals smoking cigars and sipping vermouth laughingly madly at how easy it all really was. Meanwhile we’re thirty and directionless and although the blame is ours alone I personally don’t think we were ever given a fair chance as our parents held on to their jobs a little too long while the greedy hogged everything else American and ours.

Meanwhile on the bus a drunken man staggers on the ride, head hurting from the bright florescent lights that surround us, he goes right to the back seats, the designated seats for the troublemakers and outlaws. He tells me he’s just having fun because he’s got nothing better to do. He’s a painter with nothing to paint, and not the artistic kind either, but rather the sterile white wearing workers who paint sterile white corporate walls. Most people are getting their walls covered with rubber these days I joke to him, but even in his state of sin he’s in no mood to laugh. Few people are these days, despite the perfect white smiles everybody has on the TV which brightens PRIMETIME every week day night starting at seven. Well maybe the joke wasn’t that good. Who am I to judge? He’s passed out now and the ride is nearing its end.

I’m home now and just need to unwind from the long bus ride and the longer day of work. I hate it. I hate it all. But it is who I am and what I have to be in order to survive. I’m watching thee overly sexed people trying to cook a perfect French Cuisine on some stupid show right now. I’m sure it’s good but I’m alright just being here watching this stupid show, writing on my laptop, and eating Peanut butter right out of the jar. I wonder if I’m the only one.


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