Thursday, May 31, 2007
bwllalalllaagggh. there must be something that needs to be purged today. something that can be written, and forgotten about moments later, only to be unearthed years later and pondered in a fit of boredom. what will entertain me years in the future? well future, me tell me a little bit about yourself.
you are 28. you are still 6'4. you hair is greyer. you are an international mob boss, and arms dealing kingpin! you can topple buildings with a snap of your fingers! you have leveled las vegas, and erected a brand new town based on darkness and black and white contrast, where the only lights are uv and infrared, those wavelengths just beyond the spectrum of visible light. tourists only see the accentuation of things, but don't quite know what they are seeing, or why things are coming into focus. in a strange twist, the town has become an even larger orgy of sex, drugs, and everything debauch. maybe this was your intend all along. the new slogan has become "what happens in vegas can't even be seen." the eyes of the locals have slowly adjusted, and the new evolved vegasites have built a giant blackmailing sceme, run by your underlings.
but that is just one town. you have built a new city above seattle. you have named it hiseattle, and after buying the united nations, have declared that everything 10 miles above the surface of the earth is exempt from earthbound laws, national or international. the world rejoices as small packages of marijuana fall from the sky. with no one to prosecute, the nations of earth have declared the drug legal. thus, guerilla lawmaking is born. others try to mimic your political model, but because these others are politicians and their hanger-ons, their skyborn towns plummet to the ground after the majority of their budget is earmarked for kickbacks and payoffs. the citizens are obviously outraged, and politicians are forced to denounce themselves. the world is on the verge of implosion, until on election day you descend from your perch, and declare yourself an eligible candidate. after the international skygate scandal, all politicians are now convicted felons, and thereby inelligible. you score a landslide write in victory, beating bart simpson and school sucks by several percentage points. with unlimited power in your grasp, you fly back up to your seat in hiseattle to watch.
without anything to control them, people go about their lives how they see fit. they dream dreams, and follow them. they race fancy cars down the interstate, and help eachother out of the ensuing burning wreckage. without cliches to follow, people stop locking up their daughters to the benefit of everyone. some people even learn to fly.
but some people can't take their new freedom. the crave their old life, where their freedom was given to them by force. so from time to time, you come back to earth, and make vague statements like "all true patriots volunteer their time to rebuild our great world," and "those who truely love liberty will work tirelessly for a better earth." those in need of hardline guidance happily go about their days hauling wheelbarrows full of debris off the old roads, and picking up litter. political parties form into cheap labor crews, who do the grunt work for the rest of the world. freed from the realistic shackles of a logistical world by those who formerly chained them to the inane, the new independent citizenship enters a new renaissance, a period of unparalleled progress in every field. soon, real cities to rival hiseattle are born, and civilization stretches toward the heavens. the old patriots scoff behind their hands and wallow in their good fortune, quoting the great grand-president harding. "Those who love freedom and earth will strive to be one with her." while civilization begins to spread into the vastness of space, the remain citizens of earth consolidate their powers and form The Patriots for Freer Liberty. they form primitave communities made from mud and agricultural waste, and when they aren't working in their building crews, they spend their time debating who is the closest relative of the original earth. with their food provided to them by their employers, and with their own television stations run by the PFL, they have no need for rest of the earth. slowly, earth is reincoorporated into the new galactic federation. The PFL is officially recognized, and its members are free at any time to leave their labor gangs and join the rest of society without any punishments or stigmas attached to their past. these people are seen as traitors by the PFL, and are used as object lessons by the other members, examples of what happens when your patriotism wanes.
and so, through a freak set of circumstances that somehow nullifies the vast powerbase of idiocy-based of extremism, you save the human race. even the animals rejoice. sharks promise not to kill innocent beachgoers. tiny dogs vow to never bark endlessly for no reason, and cats finally stop acting like they are entirely superior, and look at humans as equals. birds rejoice, as they finally now have someone with a brain larger than a shelled peanut to fly around with.
and your goal? the famed international smoke ring, a space bong that takes three billion people to light and draw. once it is lit, it ignites a solid weed core at plasma-level temperatures. it burns forever without any waste, and the specially treated materials lining the inside of the ring ensure the smoke inside never goes stale. renaissance indeed.*
*i am required to note that it has been a week since i have partaken in any way, shape or form. that even includes alcohol. i am as sober as a newborn's ass, and not some crackbaby newborn. a morman newborn. dwell on that, and never, NEVER, underestimate the power of the international smoke ring.
you are 28. you are still 6'4. you hair is greyer. you are an international mob boss, and arms dealing kingpin! you can topple buildings with a snap of your fingers! you have leveled las vegas, and erected a brand new town based on darkness and black and white contrast, where the only lights are uv and infrared, those wavelengths just beyond the spectrum of visible light. tourists only see the accentuation of things, but don't quite know what they are seeing, or why things are coming into focus. in a strange twist, the town has become an even larger orgy of sex, drugs, and everything debauch. maybe this was your intend all along. the new slogan has become "what happens in vegas can't even be seen." the eyes of the locals have slowly adjusted, and the new evolved vegasites have built a giant blackmailing sceme, run by your underlings.
but that is just one town. you have built a new city above seattle. you have named it hiseattle, and after buying the united nations, have declared that everything 10 miles above the surface of the earth is exempt from earthbound laws, national or international. the world rejoices as small packages of marijuana fall from the sky. with no one to prosecute, the nations of earth have declared the drug legal. thus, guerilla lawmaking is born. others try to mimic your political model, but because these others are politicians and their hanger-ons, their skyborn towns plummet to the ground after the majority of their budget is earmarked for kickbacks and payoffs. the citizens are obviously outraged, and politicians are forced to denounce themselves. the world is on the verge of implosion, until on election day you descend from your perch, and declare yourself an eligible candidate. after the international skygate scandal, all politicians are now convicted felons, and thereby inelligible. you score a landslide write in victory, beating bart simpson and school sucks by several percentage points. with unlimited power in your grasp, you fly back up to your seat in hiseattle to watch.
without anything to control them, people go about their lives how they see fit. they dream dreams, and follow them. they race fancy cars down the interstate, and help eachother out of the ensuing burning wreckage. without cliches to follow, people stop locking up their daughters to the benefit of everyone. some people even learn to fly.
but some people can't take their new freedom. the crave their old life, where their freedom was given to them by force. so from time to time, you come back to earth, and make vague statements like "all true patriots volunteer their time to rebuild our great world," and "those who truely love liberty will work tirelessly for a better earth." those in need of hardline guidance happily go about their days hauling wheelbarrows full of debris off the old roads, and picking up litter. political parties form into cheap labor crews, who do the grunt work for the rest of the world. freed from the realistic shackles of a logistical world by those who formerly chained them to the inane, the new independent citizenship enters a new renaissance, a period of unparalleled progress in every field. soon, real cities to rival hiseattle are born, and civilization stretches toward the heavens. the old patriots scoff behind their hands and wallow in their good fortune, quoting the great grand-president harding. "Those who love freedom and earth will strive to be one with her." while civilization begins to spread into the vastness of space, the remain citizens of earth consolidate their powers and form The Patriots for Freer Liberty. they form primitave communities made from mud and agricultural waste, and when they aren't working in their building crews, they spend their time debating who is the closest relative of the original earth. with their food provided to them by their employers, and with their own television stations run by the PFL, they have no need for rest of the earth. slowly, earth is reincoorporated into the new galactic federation. The PFL is officially recognized, and its members are free at any time to leave their labor gangs and join the rest of society without any punishments or stigmas attached to their past. these people are seen as traitors by the PFL, and are used as object lessons by the other members, examples of what happens when your patriotism wanes.
and so, through a freak set of circumstances that somehow nullifies the vast powerbase of idiocy-based of extremism, you save the human race. even the animals rejoice. sharks promise not to kill innocent beachgoers. tiny dogs vow to never bark endlessly for no reason, and cats finally stop acting like they are entirely superior, and look at humans as equals. birds rejoice, as they finally now have someone with a brain larger than a shelled peanut to fly around with.
and your goal? the famed international smoke ring, a space bong that takes three billion people to light and draw. once it is lit, it ignites a solid weed core at plasma-level temperatures. it burns forever without any waste, and the specially treated materials lining the inside of the ring ensure the smoke inside never goes stale. renaissance indeed.*
*i am required to note that it has been a week since i have partaken in any way, shape or form. that even includes alcohol. i am as sober as a newborn's ass, and not some crackbaby newborn. a morman newborn. dwell on that, and never, NEVER, underestimate the power of the international smoke ring.
