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Eugene Williams

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Uncommon Notions
By Eugene Williams
Monday, November 23, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Eugene Williams
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           >> View all 9


Satire is not dead it just has been held hostage by people with no sense of humor. “Uncommon Notions is one of those stories that makes light of everything and everybody, so lighten up and Free the Satire “No Satire no Peace”, Who said that, where watching you…

 

     Forest Gump brought us the immortal words, “Life is like a Box of Chocolate.” Rather interesting metaphor for life, wouldn’t you say? In many respects, Forest was right. Life is like a box of chocolates, but whether your life is like a frozen box of chocolates or a gooey, melted box of chocolates is open for debate.
     Now if you are one of those persons that fall into the frozen area then you find everything you hear and see hard to chew on. You gnaw away like there is no tomorrow until your gums hurt or you give up and spit the whole mess out as just too damn much trouble for whatever little pleasure or insight you might gain.
     But if you fall into the gooey melted area of life’s observation gallery, then everything is all blended together and you don’t really give two cents about what you see or hear because it’s all pretty much BS anyway-or you fall for the BS like a kid in a candy store. Gooeyness is a two-edged confectionery knife so to speak.
      Then there are, those Gumpnites with their box of chocolates who take a chance on eating that perfect almond blend, hoping to avoid those cherry filled mess making no account gelatinous awful delights, you know, the ones you pick out of the box a thousand times although you know you hate them.
      Kinda like a little mental torture test you put yourself through just to see if your taste buds are paying attention to you.
       Now I view myself as a semi-gooey box of chocolates. I realize this was not one of the choices I offered. Nevertheless, since I am writing this, I can take metaphoric liberty if I want to. After all, what is liberty if not a metaphoric state of choices anyway.
    I have decided to entitle this collection of mine “Uncommon Notions.,” which may seem a rather strange title for a work of short stories, but in reality every short story is an uncommon notion and every uncommon notion is like a box of chocolate. I’ll get off the metaphoric merry-go-round for awhile, before I give you and me both a headache.
      I have become feed up with social and political correctness. Talk about changing subjects in mid retort; but then again I am making this up as I go a long so bear with me. There is a point to all this; I just have not figured out what that point is yet.
      I want to laugh, I want to poke fun at others and myself without having to worry about being sued or beheaded. Forgive me if I am right, but we have become so tight cheeked that we whistle when we walk, afraid to say this or that for fear that the big bad moral police will grab us up and place us in a reeducation program or on State Assistance, which for the most part is one and the same. It seems every time you turn around, someone is suing someone for defamation of character, slander, and a host of other verbal contemplations that defy the charter of free speech.
     Let me remind you that I am aware that free speech does not mean you are free to say whatever you want. Speech is limited by intent; in reality free speech means you are free to get sued or arrested for what you say- and in some places beheaded.
    However, everybody is hell-bent on suppressing their own rights by means of monetary reformation. Ready-made social horror flick staring Dr. Keynes as Mr. Friedman. I wonder has free speech become an economic apartheid.
      We go Spike Lee suing Spuds Makinsey, or were it Spike Lee suing everyone with spiked hair not sure. Let’s be reasonable. Who in the hell would ever associate Spike Lee with anyone with spiked hair?
    Come on, do you really think Spike Lee would jump into a “mosh” pit with three hundred tweaked out neo-Nazis or their socially productive Black clad belly button ringed, raving moguls of self indulging idealism-not on your life.
     I can’t think of anyone who would want to see Spike jumping into a “Mosh “ pit outside of Condoleezza rice, that is.  I am certain Spike would like to throw Rice in the pit. Being the gentleman he is and of course the price he would pay for such an act would be unbearable even for someone of his finical well-being; and, believe me, he is financially well off.
      However, I can imagine Al Sharpton coming to Condoleezza rescue at seeing our hypothetical Lee dangling our hypothetical Rice over a hypothetical “Mosh pit”, filled with hypothetical liberty spiked haired American citizens exercising their free speech. Al would probably say something to this effect.
      “Hold on brother don’t throw her in there, there is already way too much White on Rice!”
     Here come the moral police now, sirens blasting and writs of Habeas Corpus or whatever you serve on someone for making funny.
     I can see them all lining up to say: did you hear that he dist Al and Rice or was it Spike. Every extreme left and right group this side of Mars trying to figure out what angle to use on me. Gotta love it, I can see it now; every minority group of action beginning to circle their wagons looking for blood; sorry to disappoint ya fellas, I am a minority just like you. Most of all I am depressed or oppressed or working against the press- maybe needing to get pressed. I do not Care!
     I remember a statement that some minority leader said once,” The oppressed can’t oppress”. Give me a break. Corporate America feeds on depressing the oppressed by way of the oppressed.
 It is us the oppressed that buy stupid stuff. That makes stupid fat rich people so happy about oppressing us.
 We like it that way. Why else would we buy stupid stuff or listen to stupid music or ware stupid clothes or drive stupid cars and buy stupid gold chains or eat stupid food if we weren’t stupid? I am stupid and very oppressed and oppressing.
    Just ask any executive at Death Row Records about stupid stuff. I could pick on Black Entertainment Television, but BET television executives really do not have much of a sense of humor so I’ll leave them alone. Seems no one wants to watch television any more everyone is into music, I hate music, all music after 1980 that is.
   Now we got the next great wave in musical enlightenment to further depress us and enrich Corporate America- socially minded executives that is. Christian Rap if we weren’t confused and stupid enough already.
     Look people Jesus never was a Hip-Hop Rapper from Galilee. Get over it, never happened; find something new to sing about. If you don’t I’ll call my good friend Cardinal Barnard Law in Boston or wherever he’s hiding. He’ll banish you or curse you or have you keel hauled. Do they still do that? If not, then he’ll excommunicate your vocal cords. Whatever he does with the cardinal thingamajig under his hat.
     My advice is get out of here, with the Christian rap please. I beg of you, I can’t take it. Its horrible really, really horrible!
      Ever notice the Cardinal has a little hat under his big hat; I am told he also has a little hat under the little hat under the big hat. I guess he can bless you and play three card Monty at the same time. “Where is my brain? Where is my brain? Pick again, where is my brain.” Just kidding for all of you that find that not so funny.
    Where was I, picking on Spike Lee or was it BET television? In case anyone got BET confused with B.T. Please do not ever do that. B.T. TV is Bloomberg Financial market reporting at its best. At least BET entertains and sues people who are not entertained.
      Bloomberg bores the hell out of you unless you enjoy depressing the oppressed. Nevertheless, I watch it for an hour every day. Really B.T. that is. Starring at the DOW and Nasdex ticker symbols going by at the bottom of the screen, pretending I know what the devil I am looking at; I don’t. My only interest is in watching the price of crayons fluctuate with Bush’s color coding system.
    I am pretty sure Linda Vester put him up to that one, and the lighting War on Baghdad; you know the shock and awe that scared Saddam into selling his country to Hailiburton. Yes, I am sure it was all Vester’s Idea.
    She came up big time in the end with her own television show and 50 bazillion shares of the Crayola Corporation. What we got was a busted up Iraq and 80 trillion Arabs to hate us even more now than they did before Bush listened to Linda Vester. Way to go Vester!
    I can hear Maxine Waters now saying. “ What he talking about. I don’t understand what’s he talking about. Spike Lee. Somebody tell me what’s he talking about. I wish he’d just die. That’s right die-dead you Oreo cookie looking thing you. He is depressing the hell out of me. I don’t know what’s he talking about. Who is Linda Vester? I know who Spike Lee is, why don’t he just die dead?.”
     Gotta love Maxine, I confess I watch Bloomberg for Monica Bertran, even though I haven’t got a clue what nationality she is. Doesn’t matter at all. I think I am in love. Now Mark Crumpton on the other hand; he’s got that Linda Vester eyeball thing going for him. You know looks like they’re going to pop out at any moment. That would be a change from his boring two-minute news briefs.
       “Here is Mark with International News.”
      “Iraq is in need of a lot of International help and my eyeballs just popped out back to you Monica.”
     Just kidding Mark, he really is a great guy, and one hell of a two-minute anchorman. Funny thing about those moral cops is that they don’t fly around in black helicopters or eaves drop on us through our televisions sets any more. They are us, well most of us any way.
     Don’t get me wrong, I have looked over every conspiracy theory known to mankind. I have done the Mason, Illuminati, and Triad thing, the New World Order and made up a few of my own.
   I was taken in by Ken Lay, and Enron like everyone else and lost money on Lucent. Thanks a lot for that one Bloomberg. I oughta. I have fallen asleep between the pages of Beyond a Pale Horse or was it behind a Pale Horse and The Best Democracy Money can Buy. I really think Greg Palast needs to get laid. Would somebody please tell him Hes like ruining the whole plan for Christ sake. 
        We know we are being had Greg! We like it. Nobody’s going to do anything about it. We get freaking hypnotized by G. W. and his bands of merry men every time he opens his mouth with the word “Well,” the pauses. The Bush administration has cut the Zap-your-brain phrase to one word, “Well.” When he says that, everyone watching goes apeshit. Absolutely incredible I tell yea, unbelievable! I wonder if Vester had anything to do with that.
     It’s sorta like the telephone phrase used by Charles Bronson remember in that movie Telophne something like that “The forest is dark and deep. We have miles and miles before we sleep.”
     The bada boom baba bing, people start going freakin’ nuts, jumping off buildings blowing crap up, murdering each other with snakes and fish. What a great movie.
    Only with Bush when he says “Well,” people start jumping off buildings only in Democratic areas, turning in their mothers for overdue books at the library, or reporting themselves for having overdue books.
     All sorts of nutty things. Invading countries and buying up crayons like there’s no tomorrow, and worst of all giving people like Lind Bester her own show for being a complete the word starts with a B; that’s all I’ll say.
     We kinda did all this stuff to ourselves people; all we can do now is sit back and enjoy the ride and stop blaming the world for who or what we’ve become.
     No agency in the world could match the power of normal people willing to throw stones at each other at the drop of an unkind or in sensitive word. On the other hand, they’ll allow the government to stick its nose up our you know what, and call it making us safe. Safe from what? Ourselves!
     How did we get to this point in our willingness to sell our humor for the price of lawsuit? Carve up our values and place the chunks of our sanity into newsworthy alphabet soup served really coldddd. Just a spoonful of self-doubt makes the medicines go down.
     People listen; an uncommon notion is what makes us what we are. It is our past, like it or not. There is no magic time machine we can get in and make the whole world better. Even if we wanted to, we’d just screw it up anyway. So the best we can do is live with the world as it is really is. In addition, smile and laugh and hold onto everything that has made us so great so vulnerable and so human.
     I have always wanted somebody to come along and explain the real world to me. I have had with conspiracy theories. Believe you me; I know what’s really going on.
     We is “pardon my English”, being suckered at every turn by Globalization: money baby is power.
     I don’t cry about it much anymore; neither do I accept it, but what I do, do. I have always wanted to say that what I do do is to try and understand it. The whole picture not just little pieces. The whole big ugly sad picture of our world unfolding in full color. The stories I could tell—maybe another time.
     Then one day I looked around at the people I was working with. I asked myself: are these people clones or idiots? Are these people some kind of government experiment? Are they aliens? No, they were none of these things.   Just normal people trying to deal with reality the best way they know how.
      Then I asked myself; am I a government experiment? Was I ever really born? Was my whole history just a movie flick played out in real time so that I age as the movie goes on and on? It was me that I wasn’t sure about. Self-doubt and all that.
      Then I noticed a mother crying over the loss of a son. Then I notice real people dying in hospitals of cancer in real pain. Then I notice the rain and felt the warm sun. Then I fell in love and had children. Then I got a job and had to pay bills.
     Then I watched the President, and the United Nations. In addition, a war and a screwed up election. Moreover, I watched a state go to hell on the backs of greedy businessmen in electrical suits. People losing their jobs. I got a divorce because I was too stupid to understand how love works.
     I finally realized the only clones and black helicopters and fake moon landing and aliens so far known are the ones we need. We want them to help us make sense of a world that has forgotten how to laugh. A world that has forgotten, at times, how to feel.
     Oh don’t get me wrong: there are a lot of really weird things out there. Nevertheless, they are our really weird things; we have created the really weird because we advance as we create, from one simple tool; to another simple tool that is what makes the world go round. Those simple tools build our world of cards. Those simple tools bind our lives to s single moment and that moment is now. Nevertheless, tomorrow will belong to someone else if we miss use those simple tools, and will be left with nothing but yesterdays. That’s pretty heavy if I don’t say so.
     We bind our monies to build and destroy and globalize and reek havoc, to reduce the numbers of consumers to those that just consume; it’s a spreadsheet, not a conspiracy! It is moving forward, not standing still. Our world is a treadmill of dog eat dog and dumb staying dumb long enough for a buck to be made and another Nation to be tamed. Is this misusing a simple tool or what?
     Life is like a box of chocolates and the candy man doesn’t want us to laugh; he doesn’t what us to be who we are.
     The candy man is each and every one of us; strange how things really are. We are those sheep in the midst of the wolves, and we are those wolves.
     Reality is better left in the land of make believe because it sheds tears on picture broads and cast a thousand actors that rise from the dead to do it all over again in our imagination. Is our imagination our need?
     We like living in the land of make believe, because the alternative is too painful. Humanity has come a long way for it to end upon a whimper in someone else’s sideshow. This is our world, those aliens out there that are not of this world please leave.
     No we can still reach into that box of chocolates and pull out that piece we know we hate. Gnaw away on it until out gums hurts, because it is our box of chocolates and, by god, life tastes too good to spit it out because someone else says you don’t like it.
     You don’t need this or that. You only need what is in your heart. You only need to know how to smile, how to laugh, how feel the sun on your face. You only need to know that everything that this world has become has become that way because you let it.
     Now you need to know how to live with it and understand it and laugh at it or change it because you can’t hide from it.
     The alien won’t help you; they could care less. The government only cares about what those in the government care about and those people in the government are people just like you. For better or for worse they were children they were and are moms and dads. They live and they die each and every day just like you do. 
     The factory worker, the storyteller, the banker, the conservative or liberal, the Cowboy, the little old lady and the child with nowhere to go.
     There is no absolute color barrier or ethic that determines the pattern of one’s life. We all determine our own destiny. There is only the truth of how the world works. This truth is felt in each and every one of us. This truth was created for more than just the purpose of serving a need for needless things.
     A human need, created by a thousand wants. Call those wants power, cal it indifference, and call it whatever you like, but call it by its name. See its face as the face of each and every one of us staring back from the abyss of human history, one story as a time.
     Our history was harvested from the fields of conquest and now our history is served to us upon the board room table. We must know history in order to know who we are. Children grow into men and women. Men into Kings, and the poor and sick walk among us. Just like us, every changing every needing, every wanting more than hope can ever give. That is just how we are.
     No, we have a choice in everything we do in life. We can reach into the past and see our future, but most of all for now we have each other, and we must laugh and need tomorrow to be better than today, yesterday to be a depository of all those things that made our lives, our hopes possible.
     We need our Uncommon Notions to bring us back to whom we are, and if we need our black helicopters and Aliens so be it! But most of all my friends we need each other.
     I hope that you have enjoyed these short stories and I hope I didn’t ruin this book with all this doom and gloom. I could have just left it out, but then again you’d never know My Opinion.
 
The End

 

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Reviewed by D. Kelly 12/10/2009
Great read and well written. Really kept me interested.

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