Probably happens to you, watching the news, sitting in traffic, waiting in line at Wal-Mart, it just hits you, things are totally fucked. I see evidence everywhere. Giant grey produce bins at the grocery store. I like to go as early as I can. Avoid the fuck-stuff. Produce manager’s job every morning is to come remove the spoiled, wasted food. It’s a big bin. For days I’ve watched him just loading it to the brim. Delicious greens, pears, bananas, all just left to rot, then to the dumpster. I think about how much waste this grocery store has in a year. How little fruits and vegetables this neighborhood actually consumes.
Getting gas. “Kyle! Kyle!” A man screamed across the parking lot at his friend. Guys hops out the truck. There old friends, probably High School buddies, slap each other on the back. Start reminiscing. Saw the Texas plates. Thought it looked like you. Figured it had to be. Fuck, how you been? Good, good. How long you been in town? Few weeks, you live around here now? Yep, just a couple blocks up. Awesome, yeah I’m staying with my parents. They live in these apartments, social security type thing, up on 33rd street. Oh great…When did the arrested development phase of humanity begin, my mind wonders? I’m pretty sure I was born into it. I can testify to its presence from my earliest memories, say circa 1987. I’m sure I was aware of it then. Its colors are Pepsi red and blue, synthesizers and bass, Aquanet, smooth tanned thighs.
From research, and considering good USA specifically, I think the Great Depression strikes might me as a likely starting point. Maybe more broadly we would want to place it during the Industrial Revolution, 1760-1840s, when the massive modern cities were created, and people left their agriculture and tribal roots and got in the race for the dinero. But that’s just the “arrested development”, no more human beings phase, the true fuckery, well that’s as old as time itself isn’t it? Isn’t a bigger fuckery than the umbra itself, the primordial black abyss that spawned the whole thing. Where laws of physics and causation are suspended, anything is possible, welcome to La-La-Land. Table of two. We’ll get you right over here. Next to Larry, his wife Marge, a six pack of tall-boys, and a cartoon of cheap cigarettes. Would you like a t-shirt?
Lady at my kids school the other day had to be told to move out of the bus line. Multiple signs state this fact. A dozen people lined up on the streets, with signs, and vocals established this fact the first three weeks of the new school year. Most everyone seems to get the message. Except for the roots of fuckery, they never seem to get the message. She had to be asked to move. Almost gets in a wreck puling out, goes around the block, parks it on the median in a front of a house across the street. Gets out of Escalade (chop my dick off, if that’s paid off), begins to assault young child in the back of the car. I will beat your fucking ass, if you scream again. Shut the fuck up. Stop screaming goddammit.
I stand there, blood boiling. Another parent and I make eye contact, give each other the look. Social consensus, fuckery. The lady comes over to talk. We can’t believe it. I tell her I’m about to snap, but then I’ll be just as bad, making a scene in front of everyone. Fuckery provokes other fuckery. A chain of fuckery stretching into the horizon, a stunning purple and blue horizon painted by Bob Ross…
It’s 9:55AM, I’m in the lab. I am Holden Caulfield, and you’re all phonies. Let’s get these words.