On the pimply ass of yesterday's America stood the throne of one proud empire. Emphatically self-declared the heir of outrageous fortune in the form of endless rolls of bleached toilet paper, wax bubble gum lips and various indications of chemically-induced menstrual cycles, this massive blob of run-off ruled the world.
Ah...I can remember it so clearly now,Tang and Twinkies in the backyard by the slip 'n' slide, ripping our young thighs open on the torn wet vinyl but that was all just part of the game--and gave us scabs to pick off later in case we got bored with Tom & Jerry reruns. Divorce was the national pasttime, the free-lovin sixties echoed back into canyons of unfulfilled emotion, originating from a spiritually-bereft notion of self. Someone named God was always looming overhead, watching them as they masturbated with Mop 'n' glo smiles nervously licked onto their faces, ashamed to come in the name of the lord. God was printed into the wallpaper, sewn into the hems of remarkable new synthetic fabrics, congealed in the blood of turkey by-products but somehow never completely at home in the hearts of this blessed people.
And this was the disease that infected millions, an inoculation of separation--there were the people and there was their god. God was the cure, not attainable until death. Imagine that, an entire lifetime of sickness, wasting water and earth and air, sucking heat from the sun to drive their sorry asses to work and back home to refuel on salisbury steak and tater tots, visit the doctor for antibiotic cocktails so that everything would appear as some semblance of OK.
We all knew it couldn't last like that. It was a quiet conference of revolutionaries, unafraid to die, undiluted by the scowls of punk rock cynics, faithlessly pitiful crybabies, our own anxiety-ridden parents still expecting us the achieve their futile goals, we let them all sift through our fingers and turn to glitter upon release. "who spilled this glitter all over the floor!?" "WE did, mom, and get used to it--'cause there's more where that came from!"
The empire has fallen, tumbled down like economy-sized day-glo boxes of laundry detergent stacked higher than our crown chakras, crumbled like forgotten Doritos in our backpacks, stumbled and spilled and deleted to invisible kisses goodbye. The epidemic is on the wane, believe it or not, as ONEness is infinitely larger than duality could ever construct--not even with Donald Trump's contractor. And we're laughing. We're laughing, mom! This has been the most hilarious re-run of all...
But this is the last time I'm gonna watch it.