The Year Of The Jackass
Times are curious and so are the voters. Some of them at least. Today as I was sitting in T.G.I.F. it occurred to me that a lot of those places are all the same. Some weird smorgasbord of inoffensive Top 40 music that is comfortable for the young set or the family types. Bring your grandmother too. She will be amazed at your hipness. She will revel in the walls that are all to covered in shit. It looks like a hurricane of magazine advertisements wandered into the place and shit all over the walls. I will be glad when that trend is over and those places redecorate. I have an idea for the redesign already. They can just cover the walls in neon painted mounds of randomly places horse shit. The whole place can be done up to look like the corner of a horse's stall just as they're cleaning the place out. The food can be brought by men and woman dressed as jockeys and include real horse meat. It will be the only thing we can afford in a minute if things keep turning the way they are. The restrooms can have real stock shares of the Big Three Auto companies to wipe your asses with.
Oh it's getting ugly out there isn't it. Just today I saw a family walking along the road in the tsunami we are experiencing here. The children were being dragged along the road by their parents who were fleeing bill collectors shooting after them in big tow trucks. The family was running because the tow trucks had taken their fleet of Sport Utility Vehicles, but the truck drivers had not become enraged until the family publicly denounced them as swine and then gone for dinner at the Olive Garden with money they saved in their shoes. It was scene too ugly to watch so I turned away and back to my bacon cheeseburger. My waiter who was watching the whole scene asked me what I thought of it.
"They had it coming," I said and tried to turn back to my book, but the man persisted.
"How can you say that, they have children?"
"The children can be sold. There is a great deal of money to be made in the African mining industry," I said and turned back to my book again.
The waiter snarled and grabbed the overstuffed burger off my plate and squeezed it to bits in his hand and threw the pieces back down onto the table. "Enjoy your meal sir."
After he stormed off I thought about what he said and decided that he was right. The children were the ones who really suffered when homelessness and despair gripped the whole family. Now they couldn't even live in the SUV they had invested so much time and money into. Hopefully the Olive Garden kept them warm long enough to keep the chill of a rainy Sunday night from seeping into their bones before the sun came back up in the morning. Hell, maybe the father and mother had found jobs singing birthday songs to customers and washing dishes crusted with garlic salt and tomato bits.
Hank Williams Jr. in on my television singing about how the woman do it in Dixie with a bunch of women I have never seen in the south or the north. These are the kind of women you rarely find outside of L.A. or some other depraved hollow like that. The kind of women you will only find in plastic surgeons offices or on the set of movies with title like "Deep Diving:Virgin Assholes 11" or "Dicksie Tricks 12:The Deep South". We leave the country music channel on for the bird because it seems to respond best to country music and parakeets need sound on at all times, even when sleeping, or they start to fear immediate attacks from predators of all stripes who would devour them whole.
It's not so different from how humans would be if we had any predators to worry about but ourselves and our pet monkeys and tigers. Recently a woman had her whole face and hands torn off by a rampaging monkey that belonged to her neighbor. One wonders if there was any music playing when that happened. I doubt it though. I don't think music would have helped. The monkey had been the star of Old Navy commercials. The whole scene makes more sense to me after having spent some time in Old Navy once. The whole place is done up to look like the caverns of an industrial warehouse that just happens to be filled with Quasi-trendy over priced yuppy clothes. The help is bored and angry because they hate their jobs and most of the customers are people who believe they are upscale, but can't really afford it. I would probably want to tear someone's extremeties off too.
Times are tough. Even Miley Cyrus has to sing country music, in addition to her pop music, to hedge her bets against the coming shitstorm. That's why the idea to decorate restaurants like a shitty horse stall is a good idea. In a minute the feeling of home on the town will be all the rage. It's the comfort of home with the escapism of trendy night spots. Leave the shit stained misery of your life for the shit stained misery of night life. It will have the kids foaming at the mouth to stuff their pockets with dogshit to add to the fun. Bring glitter. The night life needs shine!
The art world has known for years the value of feces and in these economic times it will be the only certain currency. Hell, who knows? Wiping your ass with GM shares might make them more valuable. Even the Chinese are getting into the act. The Chinese manufacturing industry is in a tailspin right now because Americans find themselves with less money to buy their lead-based, melamine tainted plastic trinkets. As a result 20,000,000 chinese immigrants find themselves without jobs and the goverment is shitting itself stupid trying to stimulate the economy now that those people can no longer afford to distract themselves from authoritarian control with flashy cars and large homes. We have that much in common with the Chinese right now. One major difference is that China holds $1 trillion in IOU's from America. Worthless IOU's as of right now. That is one thing working in our favor. By the time China needs to collect on those IOUs they will be worthless. Our economies are intertwined. When we stop buying their garbage they need to collect, but they cannot because we only stop buying their garbage when we are broke. Hee hee. Suck on it. That is until they forage far enough into other markets that they no longer need us. How's that for pain? 2009 is the year of the ox on the Chinese calendar and they are prepared to run that ox right up our asses if the times serve them right. 2010 is the year of the tiger. Will they tear us apart or will they wait until 2016, the year of the monkey? Only time will tell. Many people are nervous right now about the amount of our debt the Chinese are buying up. Clearly, if the Chinese are buying it, our debt isn't nearly as worthless as it looks like it might be in a few years. If it is then we will be that family on the curb and the Chinese will be mowing us down with our own cars and trucks. Until then, they need us as much as we need them. At least I hope so. Then again, maybe 2009 is really the year of the jackass and I am just another braying buffoon.