Once upon
a cruel and linear time, a trailer park in
Middle America degraded into a cesspool of
chronic malaise. Though they weren’t a really
bright bunch, it became so unbearable that the
Trailer Trash looked for a sign, a flashing
icon, a modern saviour…anything that might save
their sorry asses.
Then one day, a
strange man rolled into town in a shiny black
Mercedes-Benz. He proclaimed that he would save
the Trailer Park from Wretchedness through
Religion. Firstly, the strange man pulled out a
large volume called “The Good Lord’s Handbook on
Human Etiquette”. He taught that boinkin’ your
mother ain’t morally right and other shocking
commandments soon followed:
1) Do not
steal from your neighbour’s
yard. 2) Do not beat the kids up
every morning. 3) Do not boink your
mother’s stolen dog
while beatin’ on your neighbour’s kids.
The Trailer Trash were upgraded to the Trailer
Folk once the Fear of Eternal Damnation was
properly begat.
One day, after a
particularly rowdy Confession period and payment
of alms to the increasingly large Church of
Eternal Damnation, a silver Cadillac arrived. A
man in a crispy suit stepped out and announced
that he would save the town from Dogma with
Politics. The man promised that his system would
clean up the town better than Morality ever
could. He taught them many laws and such finer
details as contained in by-laws. He promised
them many promises and Government was born.
Shortly ever after, the paper mill flourished,
the rubber stamp store grew and the tax office
taught the Trailer Folk how to give money away
with dignity. By power of the Constitution, they
were upgraded to the Trailer People and given a
set of constitutional rights that were later
quietly amended with important clauses and
sub-clauses.
The Trailer People didn’t
understand many of the laws. They didn’t
understand many of the by-laws. They didn’t even
understand their constitutional rights and they
sure as heck didn’t understand the tax system.
An expensive Federal Commission on the
Usefulness of Homogenized Government was
created, many sub-committees were formed, and a
Ministry for the Efficient Dissemination of
Reports from the Federal Commission on UHG was
established.
One day, after the Trailer
People had finished working 8 months to pay
their income taxes for the year, a snappily
dressed man arrived in the municipality in a red
Porsche. He told them that he would save them
from Bureaucracy with Capitalism. He sold the
Trailer People the American Dream and they
learned about the Almighty Dollar, the
importance of Good Credit and the Pursuit of
Happiness through scrupulous purchases from
multinationals that offer Brand Name goods at
bargain basement prices. An Exploitainment
Industry was also created so that the Trailer
People may be constantly reminded of what the
American Dream is all about. They tried this new
scheme on for size and had up to seven days for
full refund. They were now coined the Trailer
Target Market through a large advertising
campaign that was both humorous and endorsed by
celebrities.
Seven days passed and the
Trailer Target Market became too busy to get
their money back. Many were holding down two or
three jobs while others were unemployed because
they didn’t have What It Takes. The Trailer
Target Market were now divided into three
classes: the lower class, middle class and the
Celebrities. So, even though Happiness was
always for sale, no one but the Celebrities
could afford it.
One day, after the No-Money-Down
Independence Day Sidewalk Sale, a distinguished
woman with a proper goatee arrived in the
Multiplex Development in a green Volvo. She
stood before them with a small handheld
microphone and explained that she would save
them from Poverty with Education. She taught the
Trailer Target Market the importance of
Economics, Political Science, the History of
Western Religion and the greatness of
Corporate-Sponsored Science.
The Trailer
Target Market took many written tests and bought
many heavy textbooks. Soon, some even achieved
test results that were near the National
Average. They learned to ask more questions in
class; questions that were grammatically
correct, questions that were phrased coherently,
questions that were approved within the Academic
Curriculum. They began to understand that
Religion, Politics and Capitalism have always
existed for the Greater Good. The Trailer Target
Market were soon called the TTM as acronyms
became exceedingly necessary.
As the TTM
became ever more efficient units of production
and consumption, they found that ten cups of
Coffee, two packs of Cigarettes, and a case of
Beer did not relieve their Consolidated Debts
nor help them get through the day anymore. Even
the Pharmaceuticals in their medicine cabinets,
in their meat and poultry, in their water and in
their Genetically-Modified foods could not cure
them of their many aches and pains, their many
diseases and discomforts, their many stresses
and depressions. The only ones who were not on
the five-year Hospital Waiting List were the
Shiny Happy PeopleTM and that was
only because they were genetically-engineered to
ignore discomfort, stress and disease.
The MegacityTM had degraded into a
cesspool of unrest and well,
regional-fermentationalism. There was a palpable
sense of déja-vu but the Leaders’ Summit on the
Rise of Mass Disillusionment concluded that the
only solution was War. The Government and the
Corporations worked together to manufacture
Numbing FearTM
and Threats to National SecurityTM,
two new sweet-smelling products that would
soothe the population into submission and
subservience.
Then one sweaty, smoggy
day, a terribly odd creature came to town. The
TTM wondered if this was a publicity stunt and
asked: “Who is your sponsor?” The creature was
small, unfashionable and did not have a lawyer,
agent or PR representative to speak on its
behalf. It didn’t even have a speechwriter or
spin-doctor. It could not provide a press kit
nor did it offer any witty sound bites.
“I love riding my bike downhill with the wind on
my face. I love feeling the rain on my lips and
the sun on my brow. I love the coolness of the
tide when it washes over my feet while I walk on
the sand. I love the silence of trees and the
music in the woods. I like making art. I like
spending time with my family and friends. I like
the people in my community. I love to play,
dance and sing. I am alive.”
The TTM were
not impressed. They hated the language of
Earnestness. It was so passé.
They
asked: “What is your Net Worth?”
The creature smiled and replied: “What is
your life worth?”
The TTM, being familiar with Rhetoric
through many well-funded Political Campaigns,
were equally not impressed.
They
demanded: “With what Authority do you speak? Do
you have a Recognized Degree or a Best-selling
Book? Are you a famous Leader or Guru?
The creature shook its head.
The TTM
nodded knowingly and turned to go. But the
creature suddenly asked: “Where will you look to
find what is called inner peace?”
Utterly bored and then completely offended
by this unacclaimed messiah, they rushed off to
the nearest Park-A-Lot and drove off in their
respective loans-on-wheels. On their cell
phones, online forums and focus groups, they
bantered on about the inherent clichés in the
creature’s responses and published clever
editorials that debunked other related myths
such as Love, Joy and Freedom.
Alone yet
not lonely, the creature shrugged his shoulders
at all this fuss and jumped back on its rickety
bicycle.
As the creature coasted through
MegacityTM, the TTM heard the sounds
of Bliss as the bicycle swept past them. They
saw the wind brush the creature’s hair and heard
the sun kiss the creature’s face. They felt a
tingle of Freedom rippling through their abs of
steel, the warmth of Joy loosening their ties
and relaxing their perms, the flow of Love
sailing through their hardened arteries and
pumping Life into their blocked hearts.
Though they wondered if the creature was
breaking city by-laws, though they pondered
whether it had appropriate insurance in case of
accident, though they questioned what the
creature did for work, though they debated over
why the creature did not care about looks,
status, possessions or property… they found
themselves appreciating the creature.
Well, it did not make sense…it didn’t even earn
Interest. But they started to observe a strange
yearning…
…and it was different from the
yearnings that came after watching Television
Commercials, window-shopping without cash or
credit, absorbing ads from magazines, billboards
or hot-air balloons.
A very distinct feeling came with it.
…and it was no ordinary ancillary product.
Nor was it a cross-promotional gimmick, an
add-on, plug-in, or prize at the bottom of the
cereal box. It felt meaningful, it felt real, it
felt like goosebumps traveling up the spine and
into the skull. It was like chewing on powerful
medicine that was bittersweet going down yet
immediately effective.
The bitter taste
reminded them that they had been asleep for a
long time.
...and it was different from
the sleep that came from drug-induced comas or
alcohol-soaked slumbers at all-inclusive
resorts.
Luckily, the sweetness in the
mix provided a gentle chaser to help them wake
with no aftertaste.
...and it was
different from the awakening that came from
designer amphetamines covered by extended health
plans, morning talk shows that blared from alarm
clock radios or even chocolate-covered coffee
beans.
Yes, it is the sweet awakening
that comes from receiving a new lease on life
yet finding all your debt is forgiven. And it is
followed by the awesome moment of choice that
comes with every epiphany.
…and no, it isn’t like the choice between
Pepsi or Coke, Democrat or Republican, Beavis or
Butthead.
…it is a choice that actually
makes a damn difference.
