Sunday, October 7, 2007

Maybe the Times they are a Changing.

“Come gather round people wherever you roam and admit that the waters around you have grown, you’d better start swimming or you’ll sink like a stone for the times they are a changing.”

I’m not sure I got the lyrics right. It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that masterpiece by one Robert Dylan... but I am certain I got the intention right. Things are changing. Right in the midst of these dark and dreadful times, the truth is coming out.

It seems that now, on the edge of the precipice, with the world poised to fall and all human destinies hanging in the balance that some mysterious wind is blowing fresh air into the room; this crowded room filled with fat, self-satisfied men smoking expensive cigars.

Here is the room my friends, only a moment ago there were young boys with painted eyes and girls playing at being a woman before such a promise had even come to their minds... here they are, used and screwed and thrown away, just like all those sacred pieces of paper upon which your posterity was writ large and then used as toilet paper by these same men, just as the boys and girls were... over and over again.

We have many young boys and girls and we do not care. You have to travel back a little way. You have to travel back to where the frog prince of the empire informed you that these pieces of paper were, in fact, just toilet paper. You must travel back to the point where he said it would be easier if he were dictator. You have to keep traveling back and that shouldn’t be hard because, after all, you were traveling forward when it happened... weren’t you? You don’t remember?

Okay, I understand that. It’s not easy to remember things when you weren’t paying attention in the first place. What are these cracks I see in this perfect vase? What is this vase fitted to catch a monkey’s hand... reaching in to snatch a mango or an avocado... whatever that pearl of great price might have been; whatever the succulent fruit... painted boys and girls dreaming of breasts to come while the men with cigars applaud their taste and their vision to have found them before the breasts have formed.

The greatest plunder is to steal something before it happens and then you can re-sell it to your friends as only slightly used; “see back of carton for important disclaimer and terms of use.” Accept no substitute. Ah... but you must close your fist to grab the mango... the avocado... the young boy... the young girl. Yes, you must close your fist to snatch the prize. And the vase does not permit escape with the fruit as well. Surely it is your life that is the cost of closing your fist inside the vase. Surely it is your madness that does not permit you to let the fruit go. Surely it is your life.

Cracks appear in the mirror. Even the most clueless among us is beginning to catch on. What is the cause of this? Why is the truth suddenly coming to light? After all, Blackwater has been gunning down men, women and children since the start of the affair. They are not connoisseurs. Connoisseurs don’t screw them after they are dead. So I am assuming they are not connoisseurs. Why would you mess up your own bottom line? But that is the nature of evil to shoot itself in the foot. Bear with me. I think I am coming to a point. What is this force that is causing the whole world to see what’s going on? What is this force snatching us back from the precipice? Is it snatching us back? Is it an illusion? Are we doomed? Will we survive? Well... should I stay or should I go? Dear reader... you must solve the mystery... but I see-

...mercenaries unmasked. I see players unmasked. I see plots unraveling. I see the fruit disappearing inside the closed fist as the monkey in his madness cannot let go of the disappearing fruit and his shiny red ass is exposed while his madness consumes him. I see light at the end of the tunnel. I see things like this slipping into the public eye. I see Bill O’Reilly and Anal-Cystbaugh melting down into the disappearing fruit inside the vase. I see break dancing neo-cons undressing before our eyes so that the wide, soft underbelly that covers the small flaccid genitals is exposed to the weapons of their own design. I see rats running for cover. I see the whole grand design falling apart in front of their eyes... more importantly... in front of our eyes.

Why is the truth showing itself so much right now? We haven’t seen much of the truth over these last years... these years that have taken forever to go by. What is the meaning of this? Was there some clue in the buckshot face of that aging lawyer on a bird hunt? Was it all a set-up to catch not only the bad guys but also the willing participants of an enormous, unwilling witness of a public with their eyes wide shut?

All I know is what I feel and it feels like spring. I walked outside my door this October morning and my wife said to me... “Look, visible... there are buds forming on the bush. That shouldn’t be happening... but it is.

That unwelcome guest... the one no one invites to dinner... the truth... it’s starting to show up. This press that we were certain was the special bathroom graffiti wall of our oppressors is now carrying new messages. When these whores suddenly find their conscience then you know the tide has turned. Even Chris Mathews is having an epiphany. Suddenly every tarted-up slut on the boulevard is turning into Tom Paine. What a mystery is this?

Maybe things do fall apart and cannot find their center. Maybe something was holding the center all along. It is too bad so many had to die on their way to us finding this out but at least some of us aren’t dead yet. Somebody is letting some light through the curtain. Maybe they figure it’s time for everyone to be a hero now. Maybe we are all good guys and when we sink the big lie the same way they hung Saddam we can all go back to the way things were supposed to be and pat ourselves on the back at the same time.

Thank you... better late than never... our friends in the press. Thank you for having shanghaied your own self respect back to the table in Myanmar. Thank you everyone in disguise... who appeared to be a self-serving asshole... but who is now is revealed as a hero of the people. Thank you that now... as the tables are being turned- that you were so deft at the affair- that we can no longer tell ...that the same people are still sitting there.

You know... when they bring in Hillary and the whole world changes and we know that it’s all going to be better now... just like it used to be... why, I’ll bet there’s going to be some kind of an awesome group hug and amnesty for all in one nation under god... that is until the same thing happens all over again but this time they got all those unpleasant constitutional protections out of the way.

Whatever the case may be, the tide has turned somewhere out of our sight. You can’t see it but you can feel it. I admit, even I am grateful for the respite that I see ahead. Something sure is up. The truth doesn’t come out of hiding like this for no reason. Maybe there is a god after all... or maybe everybody is in the changing room getting ready for the next act out there on Desolation Row. I have to wonder whether the ‘wheel in spin’ will throw the hamsters off their rhythm or whether it’s just to make them run faster... I don’t know. It’s almost like being at a rave in Ibiza and the DJ is changing the songs so quick that everyone looks like a snapshot of somebody caught off guard.

I hope its real cause I want to believe. I really do. Because if we all get smoked again in the aftermath... more fool I... more fool you.

Visible sings: Walk Across the Bridge by Les Visible♫ Walk Across the Bridge ♫
Lyrics (pops up)



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The3rdElf
The 3rd Elf