Mental Mind F*&K - 09

Too much information, mind can’t handle it, overdrive and overflow, disk full, disk screaming. Information Age – e-mails, text messages, tweets, social networking, TV, fucking TV -- most of it garbage, trash, refuse, flotsam, jetsam, detritus – the sordid compost of our culture. Housewives of Orange County, California, look-alike blondes, fake tans, fake tits, fake nails, shit for brains…Tiger Woods drives his Escalade into a tree, a fire hydrant, a telephone pole…which is it and why? What’s the real story? Media feeding frenzy…blood in the water…prepared statements, Larry King all over it, one woman on the side for Tiger, two, three or was it four? Did Tiger’s Nordic wife take after him with a 9-iron? Riveting. Knocks the Afghan quagmire off the front page. Cue the drama on CNN: Tiger Woods, American icon or incurable skirt chaser and pussy hound? Unthinkable, yet…icons are created to be destroyed, no other reason. Americans love watching the mighty stumble and fall. Stupid human tricks. Can’t avert our eyes from the pedophile in the pulpit or the 20-car pile-up on the freeway…Jon & Kate…dipshits, little kids running around, pissing, shitting, upchucking peas while their parents angle for the best deal they can get…Jon is a dork but he gets chicks, go figure. Brett Michaels? Who the fuck would want to date that has-been? Every slutty girl who calls LA home and desperately wants to become the next “personality,” that’s who. No talent required. Ray J? – same story. Faux ho’s falling all over themselves for second-tier celebrities...as if the feminist movement and women’s liberation never happened…as if Gloria Steinem never existed...as if bras never burned so Women could be respected for who they are not what they do for men. Dumb girls with their tits hanging out, glitter on their eyelids…look at me…look at me…look at me…everybody wants to be on TV, on the red carpet, in the receiving line at the White House whether invited or not. Better not to be invited, better to crash the gilded gig, then sell the story to the highest bidder, always the highest. E. National Enquirer. People. Sell the story, write the book, sit down with Oprah or Larry King. Stock market rises, unemployment does, too. 1 in 8 Americans eligible for food stamps. How about a show devoted to that, Oprah? The ghost of Tom Joad has returned. The criminalization of poverty. The canonization of greed. Welcome to George W. Bush’s recession, the gift that never stops giving, like an untreated hemorrhoid. Aisles in Borders bookstore bursting with vampire novels and apocalyptic fictions. Supernatural beings loiter at the end of the world, trading tales of dark eternity. Pale faces, bloodshot eyes, cold fingers. Rush Limbaugh becomes king, distributes Oxycontin to school kids. Brain melting under this terrible strain, pressure…tremendous urge to castrate Glenn Beck with a dull knife, serve his severed scrotum sack to Ann Coulter or that freak Sarah Palin. Here, bitch, eat Glenn’s balls! Searing pain in the frontal lobes…can’t take any more…can you?