The wind has been transcribed into a Concerto by Mozart. The garbage man is referred to as Your Honor. His truck smells like toy marriages and families. Children follow it down the street, salivating to the sound of its bells, their fists flowering with legal tender they find on the lawns.
The mosquitoes stay on their own side of the street. Infections surrender peacefully to the medicines. Death is confined to the Alfred Hitchcock Show reruns. The last pedophilic thought in the world was just sold to a museum of unnatural history for a bundle.
When the janitors emerge from their places of employment, huge crowds of teenagers start screaming and trying to touch them, hoping that some of that toilet bowl aroma will rub off on them.
Everyone has their fuck-you fingers removed at a baptismal font during the first three months of life. This practice was begun during the pontificate of George Bush IV who is also much loved for restoring the ancient Platonic custom of crucifying poets.
The ants knock before entering the house. One look from the master and the mud relinquishes the boot.
Calendar girls are no longer needed; men are satisfied with herbal tea and I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Buttered toast. The word sex has been eliminated from all application forms.
Oil is free and plentiful, homes are built in the middle of superhighways, and the air is squeaky clean.
Wombs are guaranteed to produce for at least 200 years. Skin color is not allowed. War is fun. Earthquakes and tsunamis are a blessing from the Almighty because they give us a chance to travel bearing gifts.
God is good. And so is the ATM.
Monday, June 29, 2009
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