Monday, March 23, 2009

Where IS the Beef? -OR- The curse of a good memory

Life imitates art? Just another reminder of how truly and sincerely fucked we are.
What time does the next show start?

What used to be a phase we passed through, then grew out of, is now a mainstream lifestyle aspiration? The driving force behind a society? Celebrity. Failing that, the ILLUSION of celebrity?
Look like, dress like, talk like, behave as they do. Whether we have the talent and means to pull it off? How much of it is real? Beneath the pretense, props and crafted facade, how are we defined?
Can't act? Can't sing? Can't dance? No matter. Start a club. Fund it with donations. Provide dinner and an open bar to raise more money. Make faux populist speeches about what you'd do if you ruled the roost. The herd is stoopid. While the other guy is dealing with the dung pile from the never-ending circus of you ruling the roost, tell him how he's doing it all wrong. Yeah, people will forget that you brought the elephants, lions, tigers and bears to the festivities. That you turned them loose. That you took credit for their majesty. Until they started eating the audience.

I gave the Clinical Definition here. I ask only that you consider the illness as you try to determine whose side they're on.

How they're not behaving like seagulls? Activity? The scavengers swoop in, flap around, make a lot of noise, shit all over everything; then fly away. And still have the balls to call it leadership? That's how stoopid they think you are.

If this all goes to shit, it won't be for lack of trying to prevent it. It won't be because of incompetence unless the faux populists succeed in their delusional flappage to stop the clean up. Their proffered solution is to wait `til the feeding's done and the post-gluttony nap takes hold. Mission Accomplished.

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