Ascending Dragon

It has been a while since we have graced the pages of this blog, but then life is what happens when we least expect it.  Dramtic turns of events have kept us from posting, largely due to issues above, and beyond, our control.  These days it seems just when our keel is even and the dust is settled, another storm rages across our path, and we can only hold fast against its rage.

The world has gotten more complex since we posted here last, and yet we think that it might just be the same players, just moving new pieces across the monopoly board that is America.  The vicissitudes of modern life just seem to add more weight to our overburdened, weary shoulders.  Maybe Ayn Rand was right, Atlas should shrug, and let the knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing idiocracy have at it.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it seems all is not paradise in the People’s Republic of America.  The famous party on the left, known so long for its loyal opposition, is self-immolating.  Whilst the party on the right is finding new hope in a man known for his maverick positions.  Their candidate, an honorable hero, is being cast as the solution to the nation’s ills. 

We are curious whom the party on the left is going to choose. Do they choose the gentleman from Illinois, whose stance on anything is unknown, but he can sizzle with the best of them.  Or do they go with the gentlewoman from New York, by way of Arkansas, the much lauded wife of a former chief executive.   Neither of these people have much in the way of qualifications, including the gentleman from Arizona, who whilst an undoubted hero of the first order, has been in the circles of power for many years, and therefore just as likely as the other two to continue politics as ususal.

The Who were right, the new boss is just like the old boss.  One more time around the monoply board for everybody, and this time the dragon is the shoe. 

America is in thrall over the self immolation of the bright, pretty thing known as Anna Nichole Smith.  Like a beautiful bird eaten by the crocodile of addiction, Ms.Smith succumbed to the rigors of the “pop life”.  Known more for her propensity to take her clothes off, and her less than MENSA intelligence,  she suffered the slings and arrows of the paparazzi, as she clung to her fifteen minuets of fame like a drowning person to a life preserver.

That being said, she has become an example of our newest American contact sport, “train-wrecking”.  We have not only become obsessed with fame, but now we have become enthralled in the self-destruction of our celebrities.  In just a few hours, Brittany Spears’ new “lost-a-fight-with-a-hair-razor”  hair style has been seen across the whole of the Earth’s surface.  We revel in the clay feet of our golden idols.

Once upon a time, people achieved fame because they actually “did” something.  Now, they are famous because…well, that is the question.  Why are we even paying attention to these people, whose apparent level of dysfunction is so high that they cannot help but attract attention?  Like the screaming child in the mall, these failed adults seem to need us to notice them. 

The time has come to move along, nothing REAL to see here.