Monday, March 12, 2018


Hand me that bottle, why don’t you. Let’s spin the wheel off the top of that mother. See how much elixir is left and whether we can swallow it all before the next absurd thing happens. Or maybe we should nip down to the store right now and pick up a few more bottles. Maybe some Cheetos and Nutty Bars, too. Lay in a supply like the locals do with bread and milk before a snowstorm. Only no milk for us. Doesn’t go well with tequila. 

We’re going to need a steady stomach if we have any hope of making it out. Even then we might lose an appendage but hopefully it won’t be anything too extreme, maybe just a toe or a pinky. I could even do without a foot or leg, if need be, though I’d rather limit it to digits. Let’s save the limb-loping for something serious like a zombie attack. Have to cut off the limb if a zombie bites you there, you know. And it has to be quick, before the virus gets to your brain and we have to cut off your head. There’s no coming back from that.

We need the tequila and the Cheetos and the zombie lesson right now because wildly unreasonable events call for equally preposterous measures. Maybe the logical part of your brain has rationalized this madness into neat compartments — a place for everything! everything in its place! — but seriously, you need to stop that right now. This is not a drill. Would you like a Nutty Bar? They’re really quite addictive. I’m going to put on some music. Classic one here from 2010 — god, that seems like forever ago, doesn’t it? Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. Yeezy namechecking a reality-show star: “Baldin' Donald Trump, takin' dollars from y'all.” Swizz Beatz bringing the prophecy: Life can be sometimes ridiculous.

We are living in ridiculous times. Not just sometimes but every goddamned day. The alarm goes off, we’re checking to make sure the world didn’t catch fire overnight. It's sometimes scary, checking to see what's trending on Twitter. The only way not to flinch is by waving it off. We are K.C. Green’s dog, surrounded by flames and sipping coffee, insisting “this is fine.” The cartoon’s original title is “The Pills Are Working.” Not well enough, apparently, because if they were then this would feel more like a Japanese game show and less like Eraserhead. All praise to David Lynch — he’s a genius — but his universe is full of horrors, with the worst ones in plain sight for us to gawk at, just before they show their teeth and come for our necks.

It feels like we are inside a Lynch movie. Absurdism abounds. A digital assistant named Alexa scares the bejesus out of people by suddenly bursting into maniacal laughter, often in the middle of the night. SMASH CUT: An angler in Siberia walks along an icy river comes across a bag; inside are 54 hands. The government says no worries, haha, it’s just a goof-up by the forensic lab.

Flashbacks everywhere. Existence on a Möbius strip. Tiger Woods is back in contention on the PGA Tour. A man in his 40s, long relegated to the hall of legends as a former great, resurrects a sport that fell on black days when he fell from grace.

The world has been reset to 1997, when Woods won his first major tournament. It’s the same year Lynch released Lost Highway, his Möbius strip movie featuring a creepy, unblinking Robert Blake and a worldview summed up by a cop: “There is no such thing as a bad coincidence.”

Twenty-one years ago. Woods was 21 years old then. That same year there was a brewing White House sex scandal involving a president and whispers of a cover-up. Today the president is being sued by a porn performer and there is talk of a cover-up. We have come full weird circle. Fittingly, Roseanne is back on TV. Last time seen? In 1997. The same year Mike Tyson bit off that dude's ear, and maybe now we know why we might lose an appendage in the coming skirmishes.

To keep up the retro weirdness we will need some sort of royal family tragedy so Elton John can whip out another version of “Candle In The Wind.' That means it has to be a major royal. Philip won’t be enough. It’s either that or Hanson is coming back, and no one really wants that to happen.

But maybe that's the respite we need, the fate we deserve. Back in ’97 it was “MMMBop” and Friends, Beanie Babies and Tamagotchi. It sounds ridiculously cheesy because it was, ba duba dop. The Clinton-Lewinsky scandal was about to bust open in all its tawdry glory but we were clueless; that was still in the unknown future. In the meantime there was this new thing called WiFi and once we started messing with it we swore there would never be anything cooler, man, that shit is ridiculous.

By the next year it was all Titanic and Celine, impeachment and Bill debating the meaning of the word “is.”  To find out what he and Monica did with that cigar we used this cool new search engine called Google and once we started messing with it we swore there would never be anything cooler, man, this shit is —

My phone chimes. Twitter alert. Shit. Something maybe could possibly be happening. Or will soon. Either way it's trouble ahead. We've lived it before. To the store, stat, before there's a run on tequila.

1 comment:

Dave Lowell said...

Tequila and milk.
By GAWD, you just invented the Tequila Alexander!