Three Possible Explanations (a cautionary rant)

October 22, 2012 § Leave a comment

Maybe it was Tucson, you know?  You’re standing there on 29th and Alvernon where the cops are all standing around looking sick inside, and the paramedics are smoking cigarettes with shaky hands because there’s fuck all they can do.  And that night, a couple of detectives are crying in their whiskey because it’s TUCSON, and there’s just one more 19 year old hooker stabbed and tossed in a dumpster and even a hardened detective can take only so much, right?  And they’ll tell you that “Jesus doesn’t save in Tucson”, and the reason for THAT is that all the Jesii are too busy in Portland.

Because it could just as easily be Portland, Oregon.  Sure.  Another poor sap listened to the siren song of the bridges and said “Fuck my life, fuck these bills, fuck this shit, I’ll show them…I’ll show them all!”…And way down below, at the bottom of the river, there’s Jesus, hauling another suicide out of his or her car, saying “Look, it was just a joke, only a joke, and I never meant you guys to take it so seriously.

Or perhaps it was Providence, RI, with all the factories closed,and where everyone’s crammed into Murphy’s Pub, singing bad karaoke and spending their last few bucks on cheap beer, trying desperately to pretend Tomorrow isn’t coming…But it IS coming, it’s HERE, and you are NOT SAVED.

It’s a rum old world out there, and the biggest nightmare of all is that the rest of the world is in worse shape, for the most part.  And this is why we have “Bob”.  He won’t save you, but he’ll sell you enough Pils(tm) that YOU WON’T CARE.  It’s also why we have Nenslo, to tell us all what assholes we are when we start sniveling about shit that doesn’t really matter in the long run, or isn’t important in the first place.  It’s why we have Stang, to make us feel maybe a little ANGRY instead of DEPRESSED when we contemplate what sort of futures we’re leaving for our kids.

Obviously, we had to do something about them and their smart asses.  Jesus got nailed to a stick, “Bob” gets shot every ten seconds like clockwork, poor old Stang got turned into Bob Dylan by hordes of fanboys at devivals, and Nenslo was assassinated by accident when the CIA went after Legume.  I alone have survived to tell thee, and I’m a nobody and a bit of a dumbass, on account of I’m so fucking stressed out that I have to take pills to wake up and pills to go to sleep and if I have to go out like Elvis, on the can, please please let me at least be “upper decking” the damn thing.

I was warned about that shit, of course, letting work and life steal your Slack, but I KNEW BETTER.  I was gonna make that green and live large, right?  Of course, every kid thinks that…But then one day you’re in your mid-40s, and you’ve MADE the green, but you aren’t happy because at some point between spinning wrenches and sitting in a conference room pushing money around, your soul ran away from home and never came back.  So now you’re middle-aged, trying desperately to find out where your Slack went.

Oh, there were LOTS of reasons you did what you did, right?  There were kids to clothe and feed, there was a house note, a car note, a million gadgets and doodads that seemed reallyimportant at the time.  Now there’s Ipods and smartphones and laptops and 5000 other things that your grandfather survived just fine without, and you can never, ever escape the world, because unlike your grandfather, you can’t just walk away out of earshot of the rotary phone and be alone with your thoughts for a minute.

And the WORST part is, the more green you make, the more you’ll raise your “standard of living” (defined as more house than you need, more car than you need, and WAY more trinkets that you need), so YOU DON’T EVEN GET TO ENJOY THE FALSE SLACK.  You just sit there, paralyzed with WORRY, while your kids grow up and run away to the military or college or whatever, SWEARING that they won’t turn into YOU.  Because THEY KNOW BETTER.  Rinse, repeat.

It’s a trap, a horrible fucking trap, and even though there are BIG GREEN SIGNS pointing the way out, you CAN’T take those exits (at least in your own mind), because the CoN tells you what you’ll loose.  “Sure”, it says, “Fuck off and quit your job.  There’s a bridge waiting for you, and you can live under it or drive off it as you please.”  So you work some more, years slide by…And then, one day, the cops are standing around YOU looking all sick inside.

Well done.

-The Good Reverend Roger

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