Monday, June 4, 2018

Like Watching A Movie

I go out, I get around, and the world that I see is doing fine, thank you. The trees and the birds and the tropical skies are beautiful, and the weather is good, and long as you like it hot. Then I spoil it all by going on the Internet and poking around in the news or on Facebook, and I'm reminded just what a sorry state the world has descended to while we've all been busy keeping up with our mundane lives.

It's all like a horror movie, specifically that horror movie called, “Don't Go in the Basement.” We are just sitting in the living room while every five minutes or so someone comes through the door, dream style, no need to knock, and we immediately warn them, “hey man, don't go in the basement.” Then they say, what? Or why? And, let's have a look, and off they go. They open the basement door and go down the stairs, then there's some off-stage screaming and chomping noises, followed by silence, followed by somebody else coming in the door.

Whatever you do,” we warn them with all seriousness, “please don't go in the fucking basement!” And off they go, because they know better, and we have piqued their interest. Screams and chomping ensue.

Then here comes another young couple, full of life and hope. “Please God,” we beg them, “we know of which we speak, and if you go into the basement, you will be torn limb from limb by demons within seconds! Please! Don't go in the basement!”

They turn out to be Mormons, who are beloved of God, and therefore who do not worry about such things. Why, they wonder, would we not want them to go in the basement? We, as heathens, must have an ulterior motive. So down they go. Nice young couple, and the screams have a note of surprise in them, briefly. The final slurping sounds are horrible, even after all of the rest.

This is our lives, here in the miserable 21st Century. A terrible dream of lurid, horrible violence that never changes, and never ends. Of course it could all be so simple. People could stop going in the basement. But common sense these days is as rare as tits on a bull. I'm about ready to give up, myself.

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