Cornucopia

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“I wish I was like you- easily amused.”

-Kurt Cobain

 

“A soul in trouble is near to god.”

-Saint Peter

 

“We must be careful about who we pretend to be.”

-Kurt Vonnegut

 

B.C.

 

-1-

Cornucopia

 

            When I think of America I think of Frank Sinatra.  He put New York City to music while the mayor crammed all the homeless people in a closet.  But that’s only because New York City never sleeps and homeless people do.

            Always.

            Frankie also used to get sloshed and badmouth Elvis.  Probably because all the crooning girls converted to rock and roll groupies.  Then Frankie threw Elvis the best party ever after he came home from deterring the Communists.

            Hypocrisy.

            It’s so human.

            Like looking back at Sodom while it burns.

            When I think of America I also think of red, white, and blue. 

            Blue is a primary color.  As a kid you say the sky is blue then they civilize you and you learn it’s all an illusion.  There is no sky.  Only a bubble.  It filters the sun because God made parts of it poisonous.

            Irony.

            Irony is the color red.  Like hypocrisy.  Red lets you know when you’re bleeding.  People love to leave red everywhere.  Hallmark cards, bad grades, used sanitary pads, battlefields, lipstick. 

            White is all the colors at once.

            Once it was THE color to be.  Especially if you had blue eyes and blonde hair.  Around the same time we learned how to build a bomb that could kill God.

            Bombs before humanity.

            Bombs for humanity.

            I think priority is a strongpoint in our species.

            Especially in America.

            In America you’re free.  Conditionally.  As long as you give back to the government some of the paper they print with the faces of dead men in wigs.  Most of them had issues with God. 

            Except George.

            Which was why the rain killed him.

            God had to remind George how small he was.  Least it wasn’t a flood, though.  God isn’t allowed to do that anymore.  That’s where rainbows come from.

            Pinky promise?

            Then Sodom and Gomorrah pissed him off so he dropped two atom bombs.  One was named ‘fat man’ the other ‘little boy’. 

            I think if God was a man he’d be American.  That’s why antique Jews don’t believe in Jesus.  Besides, Jesus didn’t fight the Romans and he only managed to hang on for three hours. 

            When I think of America I also think of steroids and baseball.  Our congressmen don’t like them in the same sentence though.  They spent a proper amount of time deciding how to separate the two.

            I like our congressmen.

            They know how to multitask.

            They can run the country, campaign, screw the country up, campaign, screw the people they promised they wouldn’t screw, and then campaign with God as show and tell proof that they are, in fact, good, moral men.

               Because being an atheist means you’re vile.  Psalms 14:1 says so.  Warren Buffet donates billions to charity because he is really a secret Christian.  He just pretends to be an atheist.

            When I think of America I also think of one of her sons Sullivan Duckett Jr. who is currently sitting at a bar contemplating suicide. 

For the third time. 

            He is 110% American.

            He grew up on Cheerios, TV, Nintendo, TV, fireworks, English, TV, the church, and happy meals. 

            He is also part ignorance. 

            Ignorance is American cocaine.

            It’s an addiction.

            Deal with it.

            Duckett was born the day Lenin’s a*s got kicked by Uncle Sam.  He doesn’t remember the wall falling down but the world does.  A few thousand have bits of the real thing on shelves and in shoe boxes.  The rest have painted rocks the victorious capitalists said were bits of the real thing but they really found them in gravel parking lots and spray painted them.

            Anyway, what’s the difference?

            Capitalism is a vitamin.  Take it daily.  With water.

            When Duckett was still drinking human milk Generation X was finding Nirvana.  Critics thumbed their noses at Kurt Cobain because no one understood what he was singing.  They never bothered to consider that his point. 

            Duckett knew 84 words when Kurt watered the ground with his thoughts and a big brass casing.  The critics said that wasn’t his right.  It was God’s.

            The Book of Job.

            But Duckett doesn’t remember.  Nor does he remember his grandfather Charlie blowing his mind out in a car.  He saw the light change.  He was just tired of going.

            Duckett is so tired too.  He has a loaded pistol under his seat waiting, just waiting.  It’s still cold and it wants to warm up.

            “Another drink?”

            “Another drink.”

            The bar tender slides him another shot.  Number 8.

            Duckett’s father is a proper man.  Like the noun.  His first taught his son that lying was bad by rationing his dessert.  Then he taught him that Santa Claus lived in the North Pole and like all fat people ate sweets wherever he went.  But his father told Duckett to leave Santa a cold beer with the cookies.

            “Real men don’t drink milk.”

            He’d tease his wife.

            “Besides, you can’t give breathalyzers to Santa.”

            I’d like to assume that’s a fact because Santa isn’t real.  And only real men drink beer.

            Yes, Duckett’s father was proper because he never did figure out why his son refused to drink milk after that.

            Duckett’s mother was shaped like a question mark.  She acted like one too.  Duckett’s father thought that was proper so they fell in love.

            When Duckett’s mother was a kid we were still in Vietnam.  Visiting. The politicians started it then sent children over there to try and finish what they started.  Like all wars. 

            When she started menstruating we left Vietnam.  Her father came back with needle holes in his arms, scabbed eyes, and an old heart.  No one wanted him around because he killed babies.  They were there and they saw the soldiers doing it.

            The Herods.

            Three people spit on him before he could hug his daughter.

            Camels spit.

            Monkeys spit.

            Humans spit.

            They spit on him like he was a Nazarene.  Except in the end he got a shittier holiday then Easter.

            Veterans Day.

            The ones who died got Memorial Day.

            That’s when you stick red, white, and blue flags made in China on the graves of children everywhere.

            It’s only one day though.

            One bloody day.

            The rest are for forgetting.

            Forgetting-

            Johnson must have forgotten that Ho Chi Minh’s idol was George.  Johnson had a problem with Ho Chi Minh because he was fighting the French for independence and not the British.  He wasn’t the only one though.  Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Nixon all had issues with Ho too.

            The French.

            Their capital is named after one of the biggest p*****s in history.

            Ours is named after George.

            One day George walked into a barn in New York (before the homeless people moved in) and found the Continental officers plotting to sack the politicians.  He apologized when he put on spectacles to read a letter from the multi-tasking congressmen promising pay in time.  He had aged in the service of his country, he told them, and they understood.

            Today George would probably be a homeless guy in New York because he was the only man who ever gave up his power.

            Again, that’s why the rain killed him.

            A few years later one of the multitaskers George saved slept with his slave and scratched out all the Babylonian myths and witchcraft in the Bible.

            Today we like to display the ‘screw you’ letter he wrote to the King of England.

            Duckett’s father called him a “man of god”.

            Probably because Thomas was like Abraham in the Bible.

            He slept with his slaves.

           

            When Duckett was five indoctrination began.  They taught him how to hide his heart from the red, white, and blue so it couldn’t see his sin.  At the time he didn’t realize this was because it had too much of its own. 

            They also taught him the ABCs.  The version with the stupid ending.

            No, I don’t want to sing with you.  I know the damn thing already.

            Disney taught Duckett that Nazis were hyenas and that being a kid forever sucks because pedophiles dress up like pirates and chase you.

            Today some pedophiles hide in cassocks and forgive your sins and learn how to turn wine into blood.

            The first Christmas Duckett remembers was the same year, the one where he learned real men don’t drink milk.  Like every other kid he was up all night reminding himself that wanting and material possessions are proper ways to celebrate the coming of Heracles.

            I mean Jesus.

            The night Jesus was born angels flashed working men in fields.

            Angels are like politicians.  They wake up all the working men in the middle of the night and remind them to pay up.

            In heaven you have to fill out an application to be American.  It’s a long line and less than 5% are chosen.  It’s like Harvard meets the lottery. 

            Which I guess is only fair.  If Peter doesn’t call your number the chance you might end up in poverty like most of the world sky rockets.

            Someone asked Duckett’s father once how to bring peace into the world.

            He replied, properly, and drunk.

            “Burn all your money.”

            If we just made it edible we could skin two cats with one razor blade.

            When someone asked that question around the same time history reached year zero we got a carpenter’s son.  He probably made crosses for criminals when he was a kid.

            Karma.

            One Pope supported the idea of peace and sent children to Jerusalem on a crusade.

            Thank god no one figured out how to build the weapon that destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah then.

            Literally.

            But later god would sell his secret to America to help beat the Japanese.  Which is only fair because the Japanese think their emperor is god.  That’s against one of the ten commandments.

            Duckett learned all ten one of them and assumed God was American.

            Like Joseph Smith.

            On April 6 1830 Joseph Smith organized the Church of Latter Day Saints. 

            On April 6 1917 Woodrow Wilson convinced Congress that the Kaiser was out of line and needed his a*s beat.  We agreed, dug trenches, and learned how to chemically engineer gases that made human skin melt like wax.  It’s no different than choking on too much oxygen.

            On April 6 1973 American baseball went soft and allowed pinch hitting.  That was until they found steroids.

            On April 6 1994 Duckett was smashing ant heads in the drive way.  In Rwanda the Hutus were smashing Tutsi heads.  The world did the best they could to help out.  Everyone made sure their citizens and their citizens’ dogs escaped on airplanes.  But there was no room for the people being slaughtered.

            President William Clinton didn’t think 100,000 dead men, women, and children were enough to constitute genocide.  So we did nothing.

            Properly.

            Duckett’s mother wrote a letter to an editor about it.  She found out the U.S.A refused to jam the broadcasting of hate by Hutu radicals.  It violated the freedom of expression and the freedom of speech. 

            Which is why they refused to publish her column.

            Kurt Cobain was found broken two days later.

            No correlation.

            Yes, 1994 was a good year.

            But 1995 was better. 

            That’s when President William Clinton got a blow job in the Oval Office.

            Duckett’s father called it ‘fellation’.  Which derives from the Latin word ‘fellatus’: to suck.

            Fellation.

            I like it.

            It’s proper.

 

They say I’m a cynic because I haven’t grown up. 

I think they’re just trying to coax their ego because I’m brilliant and they’re a kind of funny dumb.