Day: 2010.05.02

A Foreboding Welcome

    There are not many persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of their youth; for when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-formed thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the poison of life. But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.

    —H. P. Lovecraft

This is …

    … your world.

    … your America.

    … your today, tomorrow, and yesterday.

This is a bad joke, as many have long suspected of life itself. This is a testament to the Sisyphan Absurd. This is the essence of the painful and confusing dimensions in which we live. This is what makes us human, and this is why it is tragic.

Come in, come in. All are welcome. Shield your eyes if you must. Clap your hands over your ears. Run in terror, if you think that will help. But don’t say you weren’t warned.

-bd

Going Out In Style

Corpse on a MotorcycleIt is often said that funerals are for the living, so I’m not sure what to make of a story out of San Juan, Puerto Rico. Morticians at the Marin Funeral Home paid homage to David Morales Colón, a twenty-two year old shooting victim, by arranging his body for display at the wake on his motorcycle.

No, really. If you don’t believe me, the story is up at Jalopnik, which pulled its coverage from the Guaynabo tabloid, Primera Hora.

Corpse on a Motorcycle, AgainBut no, I’m not sure what to think. I mean, part of me despises grandiose funerary rites as misguided therapeutic rituals for the survivors. But then, there’s also a part of me that wants to follow Timothy Leary and Gene Roddenberry, to be shot into space and allowed to decay from orbit. (See Ray Bradbury’s “Kaleidoscope”.) Given the extravagance, though, I think it would be much more fun for the living to shoot my remains out of a cannon. You know, just for the hell of it. Leave ’em laughing, that sort of thing.

So, yes, that part of me looks at the late Señor Colón on his motorcycle and thinks, “Yeah, that’s pretty cool. Ride on, zombie.”

Middle America in the 21st Century

Not much to say about this one. The Associated Press reports:

Police say a 24-year-old man is missing a chunk of his right ear that was bitten off by a woman who didn’t like being called “fat.” Police spokeswoman Katie Flood said officers were called to a Lincoln hospital around 3:25 a.m. Wednesday to talk to the injured man ….

…. Flood said officers later learned that the injured man and two others had been arguing with other people at the birthday party. Flood says the man told 21-year-old Anna Godfrey that she was fat.

Officers said Godfrey then tackled the man and took a bite.

Flood said the ear chunk was not found.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Mike Tyson is from New York, but that was thirteen years ago. Ms. Godfrey, apparently, is somewhat behind the times. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Middle America.