Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Ain't No Cure for the Big Brother, Wintertime Blues

I’m in my office looking at a pile of crap from the IRS and insurance companies and wondering why. Why?
I hate this shit. This choking bureaucracy tightening around my neck.
I eke out an existence crawling around in the mud like an animal in the sweltering heat, sweat pouring from my troubled pores, and heat stroke headaches. I hibernate like a bridge troll in winter eating beans and stale bread from grocery store dumpsters.
I am not a free man.
We’re slaves to a bloated, hapless entity somewhere far away where powerful autocrats grope and fondle a bunch of corporate fat cats. They live like kings while we’re dolled out a pittance and fed a gruel of soylent-green and high fructose corn syrup. The ever-growing number of the oppressed, the unemployed, and the disenfranchised are kept fat, dumb and happy with dribbled hush money, lest they try to break free from the sheep pen.
And they tell us we are free.
Our children are packed into rolling sardine cans and hustled away to laboratories where they are probed and eviscerated by Thought Police Fascists, rewarded for conformity with gold stars and juice cartons and punished for free thinking with Zoloft, Ritalin and mind-numbing dogma. And, always the looming threat of a swift and merciless collectivist ice-pick thrust into the frontal lobe.
And they tell us we are free.

February, with its lingering winter and depression is the longest month. It’s my own damn fault. I bought the lie. I swallowed the pop culture swill while sitting in front of TV sets, being brow-beaten in Public School Classrooms and taught to fear, while hunkered down in basement fall-out shelters.

“… give your possessions to the poor…and follow me.”

I don't need no damn vacation, with its cell phones and deadlines, I need trash my Social Security Card, burn the number the Government has tatooed across my forehead and break away!

Oh, to load a change of socks, a jug of wine and a loaf of stale bread into my saddle bags, jump across the back fence and hit The Road, forever.....


  1. Yep...'freedoms just another word for, nothin' left to lose...'

  2. I'm in the same mood.