29.3.06

You boast we toast

These fuckin' kids and there fuckin' activism. Involvement in current events, Go Gophers! Hockey, football, lacrosse, basketball, baseball, go team go! Rally for improvement, challenge the status quo, make a real difference, get involved for fucks sake. You sit on your fat ass and zone out to some absurd programming about people you don't care about in a place you would rather see in flames than in peace and understanding. These kids show up fried out of their minds looking for a drum circle and a place to kick a hacky sack around, but they are disappointed in a colossal manner similar to the '68 elections. Factions of disappointment, pockets of malcontent, early 20's angst that can only be checked by the possibility for improvement on a community level. They trade autonomy for a place in the system, the system breaks them down, they wish to return to having a chance at rebellion, but that train has passed. They wanted a free society, they wanted to go crazy, they wanted to dance in the streets, but they got a Jetta instead. They said things like: "Work like you don't need the money, Love like you've never been hurt, and dance like nobody is watching." They read all the old books and saw all the new movies by directors you've never heard of, they paid attention to that kind of thing. They traded rebellion in for art, because if you go to enough art exhibits then you really are a subversive element of society that must be dealt with in a cruel and unjust manner. They started magazines and publishing companies, they built highways with government grants instead of murals. They did what was best for their country and what was worst for their pseudo "autonomous community." They joined the co-op and felt much better about themselves. They were staunch Democrats and have never met a Republican that they could stomach talking to for more than thirty seconds, or until they were challenged on party platforms. They made up silly excuses why they remain in place, pacing to the beat of normality. They wither and shrink and in the final seconds of their life they beg for forgiveness from the gods of societal upheaval, and the gods tell them they should have gone to more school functions dealing with ways to keep your white upper middle class children out of the dirty, perverse, and selfish hands of those Commies.

Round Two: there is gonna be a bit of a bar-b-que in Roseville on Saturday in GRZA's honor, Derik is gonna be up to get fitted for his tux so we should all get good and drunk. Andy, you bring the Slaw. BYOM!!

7 comments:

Anna Nym said...

Do you really think I'll get a Jetta someday? That would be awesome.

dent burntrap said...

i hate saturdays

Justice Rare said...

no,no,no...the jetta is for me, you can have the autonomous community and all the banjos that will fit in it

Anna Nym said...

You can have the Jetta. Fine. But can I trade the banjos for the publishing company, or at least a magazine?

dent burntrap said...

no one will touch banjo if they value their life.

dent burntrap said...

Ms. Nym knows what banjo is capable of.

Anna Nym said...

Yes, I am aware of her awesome and awkward strength. And her seething, malicious nature. For those of you who do not know, Banjo viciously threw me down the Carlson basement stairs on my 22nd (or was it 23rd) birthday.

She may seem cute or sweet or, at the very least, politely harmless, but I know what lies beyond those watery brown eyes. Hatred of bipedal women.