I Almost Canceled This Piece Coz of Jesus


How will you live without us Bleeb?

Strike that, reverse that…just regaining some clarity here.

A couple of plates, made of the finest bone china, sat on high topping off two towers; their over-lording and grand presence domineered and demeaned in a fashion that made all the other cups and plates and bowls - used to set a fine dinner table - on edge and feeling like – I believe a tiny tea cup leaked it best, “shit”. This momentous day was determined long ago. And, to say the participating china and glassware, along with the Sterling service and folded, crisp, fine linens involved, were not anxious, would have been a terribly inept and gross thing to mention at that time; a time of hope, and of change and gratitude, and honor, and of moving on. For, it is such a day as this that serves to remind most of those who inhabit a world such as ours that life is bright, and brief, and oh so fragi------- <apparently, the world ended here, especially for the top of the china stack, which had gotten nervous and wobbly, sitting so proud all the way up there alone. That action tickled the plates and other pieces below and within minutes the towers had come slamming down to a shattering, ignoble end. An end with debris, and shrieks, and many tears. So it goes.>

Anyhoo, let’s just call that a prelude to the nonsense to come, which in and of itself is merely a compilation of the nonsense riding the white water rapids in my brain. Oy, it’s either a day of doldrums, or one of pure, unadulterated overload in a world gone mad; one where we don’t know one day to the next who’s on the official scorecard conniving with, and at the pleasure of, the S-I-C (think POTUS, but come down to our level and tag him as we do). Disasters occur and are reported with dramatic rapidity. The world spins and the ‘haves’ shine brightly, while those with overwhelming deficits appear controlled by others and have their needs bandied and jerked about by the unqualified gangs of political brigands; “…muggers, buggerers, bushwhackers, hornswogglers, horse thieves, bull dykes, train robbers, bank robbers, ass-kickers, shit-kickers, and Methodists”! Amen, as the man once said. So, it’s no wonder most people would rather concern themselves with things as mundane - well as stupid as - Justin Bieber taking some downtime after having had one or more one-on-ones with JC. As in ‘you-know-who.’ How badly do I want to get physical or, at least, launch a raw, rant laden with expletives and perhaps even one simple “who the fuck cares?” But, I am on a journey here; exploring the American psyche as it twitches, squirms and reacts to its evolutionary-etched perception of the primal dance known as survival. Besides, if I scream “Who the fuck cares,” and it turns out that – well – plenty of your run-of-the-mill citizenry out there do care, then you just might hear, “I the fuck care!”

So, the Bleeb – that’s FS’s pet name for this fine, fine young artist – made an announcement heard ‘round the world and which apparently brought some of our more tender-footed friends to their knees that he was – god don’t say it – taking some ‘me’ time. There, he went and fucking said it. I must have told that boy 15 times to shut the fuck up and keep such things to himself. Fucking Narcissist! And you were thinking he’s just this quiet, unassuming, self-effacing little dude who was thrust into the glamour and limelight of celebrity by an overly-ambitious, over-achieving mommy. He was just a guy urged on to become the entertainment juggernaut you now see bailing on trillions of adoring fans. Well, that’s pretty much all true. Of course, somewhere along the way he grew up. Hey, shmucks, children grow up. When you live in a society that repays its debts to the have-nots by letting them into the clubs if, and only if, they find a way to make the nothing they’ve got appear like a something everyone else wants or is told it needs…well, you get the picture. Ah, I could go on rambling like this forever, but it’s nappy time. Besides, I’m preaching to the choir, aren’t I? And, the third tower of plates I didn’t tell you about – the invisible one holding up the rest of my brain – just felt a tickle. TIMBER!

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