Editor's Note: Recently, we sent Dee Louis on a fact-finding mission deep into the heart of the U of M campus. While on the trek, strange vibrations halted his journey, and forced him to seek shelter. After months of searching, he ended up at a graduation ceremony being held at the Gerald Ford school of public policy. His manuscript somehow survived...
The ambitious and their goals... they often cloud my head, and make me wish for breath. Those that aim to calculate and deconstruct the issues at hand, those that rise above their fellow man to become the filth at the top, those that run in circles, fly on radars, and coagulate into taskforces, eh. It usually leaves me tender, like the last of full pack of Winstons.
They come from all over, these overachievers. Their lives like arrows, their minds like carving stones. And they learn, they adjust, and they grow. And sure, hell, it's hard to be upset at that sort of thing. There's no roofer's mentality that drives me towards the screaming of obscenites or any southern anti-intellectual pride that scorns universities within me. Hell, christ, we don't have a choice. Either we all start reading books, or we'll be pets to the Chinese in less than a decade. Start with Faulkner, that's what the Owl tells me.
There is something special about these young prodigies, something endearing about their ethic and understanding, but it doesn't last. I still wouldn't share a Leine's with them (Sunset Wheat, now in stores!), and lord knows the success won't rub off. It may, in its best form, fill in a small gap, add another patch to this ever-growing tapestry. In its worst form, I'm left still trying to figure out how Tom Selleck can consistently do it so well, yet I'm just left with a bare upper lip.
But they don't do it for me, and they don't do it for you. They see it bigger, better, more complex. The street level is missing, the global psychology fits their equation. These problems, these shortcomings of societies, their solutions don't lie in telling people like me and the scum I run with how to live our lives. I mean, hell, that's a good start, but it's not fixing any energy crisis. We bet our good money on the Oilers and Yankee overs, not the free trade economy. Jesus, you could call what we do free trade, except some wanker in Peekwuoak, Ontario is raking 10 points no matter if Clemens makes the start or not. So fuck it, I guess.
Lord almighty, look at where I'm going with this. The selfishness reigns supreme, and I can't do a damn thing to stop it. So MY world view is now fucked. I'm seeing everything with my nose in frame, the outlines of my eyesockets forming the border. What happened to the objective? The removal of self from the Greater Pasture? Jesus, it's not gone. Tell me it's not gone.
Possibly, that's why these people are here. They're here to overcome the misgivings and tribulations of a brokedown just-need-12-bucks-to-get-in-the-trunk-of-my-car sensitive castoff like me and everyone else. They aren't troubled with the Human Pain. They use math to explain why we do what we do, and maybe that has validity. I can't see it any other way. They have to be. There has to be some force out there that sees what we all do and appoints a small percentage of us to be able to control it, and fix our errors. If not, we'll just all hang flags and bet longshots. We need help with our society like we need our social security. You can't leave it up to the people... we're not smart enough. These glorious sons of bitches have gone to school for more years than I've had a savings account, and they deserve to manage my future.
So I guess, in the end, it's a Good Thing. They take what they need from the masses - data, mostly - and they spit theories and solutions that leave us scratching our heads and muttering into the darkness in front of television screens. Because we can't fix a goddamned thing without someone up there directing, and if that director lived like we live, then no chance, no way. They'd be doing double time at the Shoe, humping that table hoping to Score Big, and make it out of there with more Money than they came with. Doesn't that about sum up America?
So fight on, soldiers. I couldn't see myself out back with you scheming on a way to take the Polish White Eagle sign off the brick building down the street, but at least you have a GOOD reason for passing on the Grainbelts.
Because my reason is because I'm too fucking broke.
No comments:
Post a Comment