Saturday, October 31, 2009


The feckless youth

What the fuck does “feckless” mean?

Gerald Ford came to me in a dream last night and explained that the mining of Mercury has already begun.

Yes, the closest neighbor to the sun is being mined for crack cocaine and reality TV shows.

Did you really think such things as Jessica Simpson and “The Real World” were home grown? Did you think that deep in our ancestry there were thoughts of taping Krok telling Jang to go umf herself?

No, we are a good people and we have good roots: Jesus, Buddha, Homer Simpson, etc…

“Listen, Matt, there are great things on this Earth; there have always been great things on this Earth, but for greed. Dear, sweet Zeus, the greed is what has dampened the Earth with foul stenches of rotten toe cheese! The greed that sent you to your computer at 4 AM in a porn craze! The greed that shot you from you lazy boy to the fridge in search of more things to put cheese on! Damnit, Matt, it’s the greed.”

Gerald was sweating, and I offered him a solid gold napkin to soak up his brow.

“This is exactly it! Solid gold does not absorb sweat! You don’t send people to work in oil vacuums when you can razz them in! You don’t order a whiskey sour with dinner when people can only afford alcohol and McDonalds because water and tomatoes are too damn expensive!”

I shot the napkin back into my drawer of them, and returned to my lazy boy.

“I stand in front of your TV to teach you a lesson, and the lesson is you would only be listening to me if I were in the way of this box of electricity that generates thought-maggots into your mind! When was the last time you were bored?”

I told Gerald that I was bored all day.

“No! Bored enough to do something other than masturbate and smoke cigarettes!”

Gerald was coming on to a point. I told him I couldn’t remember. Then it struck me, and I told Gerald, the last time I was bored was when I rewrote The Wall from an African American perspective. My highlight was the song We Don’t Need No Gentrification.

“You see, the only way to be productive is to fall away from greed! You need to close your eyes to it! This TV! This…good lord, why do you have nine kinds of beer?”

“To live a little.”


Gerald was now tearing up as he screamed at me. “Do you enjoy…this?” Gerald turned on the TV and my favorite woman (as of late, embarrassingly enough), Tara Reid was taking hookah shots of Pinesol and mentholated Schnapps out of P. Diddy’s ass.

“Um, well, Tera has a hot voice…”

“Your sloth and greed has turned your penis into a sun dial! Yes, you only see the bright lights and big cities; the atomic bombs for the sleeping koalas. You are at a lost as an ambassador of hydrogen fused. I am without words.”

“Gerald, cheer up, I started recycling today.”

“It’s no use. When you die, no matter how godawful you are, you enter paradise. In paradise, the first thing they do is purge you of your sins. It’s a sickening endeavor, and you come out on the other side a better man. But, you’ll always remember the puke and bile that seeps out; you wear it in your thoughts like an albatross and maybe that pain is a gift. Yes, a gift that you cling to as a reminder of just where you came from and a thermometer of just how far you can go.

But, this…this nothingness of Nancy Grace and White Russians – there’s no pain, there’s just…nothing.”

“Are they really mining reality shows on Mercury?”

“They are mining hell on Mercury. Their ambassador is Karl Rove. Their Minister of Foreign affairs is Aaron Brown.”

“Good God! Aaron Brown? He’s a scum bucket!”

“Do you see?”

“I think I do.”

“Matthew, walk with me and know the life that has been gifted to you.”

“Just let me finish this beer.”



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