Recently Laid-Off Cat Leaves Trail of Dead In His Wake
“Over the hill goes killer civil servant”
My favorite part of “Jerry Springer” is at the end when he shares his “Final Thought”. To be honest, it’s one of the few parts of the show you can actually hear. Most of the dialogue is “bleeped” out and I often find my ADD kicking into overdrive if I watch the show for more than 30 seconds.
Jerry-“This is Donna and Joe Vittitow. Donna has something she wants to tell Joe. Donna…”
Donna-” You ‘bleep’, you dirty ‘bleeper’ I can’t believe you ‘bleeped’ my mother. You mother ‘bleeper’ wait until we get ‘bleepin’ home. That’s why I ‘bleeped’ your brother and ‘bleep-bleeped’ your Uncle Remus last night in your ‘bleepin’ hotel bed. Hope you had a good ‘bleepin’ night sleep you ‘bleep’. Oh and I forgot to tell you, your cousin Clem ‘bleeped’ me in my ‘bleep’ and gave me ‘bleepin’ herpes. How you like that mother ‘bleeper’?”
Now that’s entertainment!
As I said, Jerry’s “Final Thought” always touches my soul. Did I say that? If I didn’t, it does. He’s such a profound, introspective man. Many times when I listen to him the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up; not as a warning or sign of danger, but as a tribute to the beauty and grace of what I’m witnessing.
Here’s a man who lives off the misery of others (Surrounds)(Buries) himself in it, and yet, once it’s all over he’s able to gather himself and lift our spirits with his undeniable perspective.
I can only raise my arms in utter humility and thank Jesus such men continue to survive in a world that often times seems so very cold.
“If your life is such a big joke then why should I care?”
I was convinced that right before her death, Anna Nicole Smith was close to reaching her full potential as a human being. But she was taken from us, not unlike Jimi Hendrix, before the world had a chance to see what she was really made of. Tis a pity.
The only consolation was the way the “news” Media endlessly pimped her un-timely demise 24/7. I can’t think of a greater way to be honored, and can only hope that when my day comes such an honor will be bestowed upon me and my various non-accomplishments.
Anna Nicole was the manifestation of the American Dream. Here you had a woman from humble beginnings, with limited education, and marginal talent who by sheer will, and the weight of her fifteen pound breasts, reached “Stardom”, “Fame”, “Fortune”.
Yet, people gathered around Anna in her death like jackals circling, salivating over a fresh kill. “Build it so we can tear it down.”
Of course we expressed “Dismay” over the handling of her death, and the way she was dragged through the mud without being able to defend herself. BUT SOMEONE WAS WATCHING.
If the “media” demonstrates anything it’s a preternatural abillity to determine what people will or will not consume. Fox, CNN, NBC, CBS, ABC didn’t cover that carnival because they give a sh*t about Anna Nicole Smith.
But as Anna melts into oblivion so too will our thoughts of her. “Forward Mates! On to the next train wreck, there’s some idiot disentegrating on Channel 3 as we speak!”
“Our dried voices, when whispered together are quiet and meaningless. As wind in dry grass or rats’ feet over broken glass.”
Not too long ago I had a near death experience. And with the blackness slowly enveloping me as the anesthetic set in, I did not mourn for Anna Nicole, or the Victims of Hurricane Katrina, or the babes starving in Biafra. Even my daughter, for whom I’d “Kill or be Killed”, was but a faint presence. It was my own mortality, my life, what I want, and what about me? F*ck You!
I know I’m a horrible person. What a cynical, self-righteous son-of-a-b*tch I am! Go ahead, it’s okay because I’m only admitting the truth, and we don’t like that do we? We want cotton candy, chocolate malts, and a cherry on top. “Why I’d worry about the kids, and those Quarterly Reports being left for someone else to finish.” Yeah?
There is only one person who can express the beauty that is my life. Only one who can share in words, thoughts, feelings, what it is I know, and who it is I am. I will not define myself or allow myself to be defined by Beetle Brains who look at life as something to dissect, analyze and then discard.
If I’m self-righteous, so be it. And if I’m cynical then get out the Bottle Rockets and let’s celebrate. It means I’m disappointed , in all of us. It means I’m still awake, and if I can use that to pull myself from this crag then there will be no regrets or apologies on my behalf. But before I go I’ll reach out my hand.
When the day comes for them to drag me through the mud I want to leave those Sanctimonious F*cks something to really talk about…