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Dark's Corner
Monday - March 20th, 2000
The most sublime of experiences are merely a dream away, sometimes even closer. The blink of an eye, the turn of a head. The pressing of a switch can activate it, or leave you in the lurch. Sometimes, planets align and the universe looks a little strange and wonderful all at once. Those are the moments that tie together the brittle fabric of our destroyed lives as Victims Of The Race. A de-sensitized, regulated, claustrophobic and happily pissed-off tribe of Lost Americans looking for the way out. The Neo-Colonies are forming in the dissent; they're the rejected Dreamers and Hustlers who have grown sick of a Government's fumblings and mumblings. They're looking towards other countries where society has been in swing for more than a mere two-hundred or so odd years. America's a pup compared to Europe, where civilizations have literally risen and fallen in the wake of wars, religious fiascos and ill-tempered monarchies. Sure, in comparison--we've got it good when it comes to living in Northern Ireland or Mozambique. But Paris or London would be awright, I guess. Maybe Australia? That's a little like America, only they're proud to have descended from outcasts and criminals. They flaunt it properly and have even made a market out of it that's been a boon to tourism. You gotta like that, mate.
There's a web site for expatriates seeking exile from America, and these people are serious. But hey, it was a system that was bound to go wrong, especially when moneyed interests began calling the shots. Let me explain. In Ye Olden Days, a farmer and his family worked a plot of land that was generally sold to them by pioneering capitalists. They built a cabin out of the land's materials, took seeds and placed them into the Earth, raised barns and filled them with all manner of barnyard fowl, worked the soil as God had intended Adam and his kin to do until His return and only went into town for the few things that they couldn't produce themselves, if there was a town at all. They exchanged their goods and services for other goods and services and no-one borrowed more money or oats or rice than they needed. As long as you put your heart and your soul into it and worked hard for others, you would be guaranteed a shed to sleep in, a meal on a table and a warm and hearty welcome whenever you came around ag'in.
Le sigh.
Banks, they were the culprits. Starting to allow folks to spend more than they earned, the concept of "selling money" didn't seem odd to anyone because everyone at that time certainly could've used a little more. Especially the fat cat Republicans who had investments in those banks. That's the bedrock of the fall of any great society and you can't escape the reach of Capitalistic Communism without ducking into the harbors of sanity that are scattered throughout the World. Places that time and the dubious advance of a people haven't touched. Where change has been measured only in the lines of their faces, the people that don't know anything about CNN or stocks or Mozart--the seemingly uncultured folks who have a peaceable life that never until the last minute, should something like this occur, be aware of anything as terrible as nuclear weaponry. Imagine, to be stoic, calm, placid even. Standing on the porch of a Buddhist Temple somewhere in Tibet, a 60 year-old man with a cup of tea in his hand. Watching a Tomahawk-16 Zyklon Warhead flying at him in a looping spiral. A complete and total surprise, and not much time to worry and wonder about the damn thing. No precedent of paranoia about what might come flying out of the sky, raining fire and hot metal. Smile at your death and be at ease with it.
For that sort of luxury.
A native of Los Angeles, Bing Futch moved to central Florida in 1993 and immediately began performing. Since then, he's been actively involved in the local scene both as an artist and as a member of the media. Currently, he can be seen and heard playing Appalachian mountain dulcimer around the state with the band Mohave. Send flames and fondles to www.darkstudios.com or bing@ink19.com and you can also subscribe to The Dark's Corner Mailing List which is the official mailing list for this column. Send press kits, music and legal drugs to: J.O.B. Entertainment Inc. P.O. Box 560727 Orlando, Florida 32856
