Those who dance are considered insane by those who can't hear the music.
Thanks again, George.
As we now know (and if you do not know, click here), the new year must begin again immediately following Christ's Mass.
The reason this saddens me, in this case, is because George Carlin's wisdom will be coming to an end in exactly five (5) quotes from now.
Of course, I can run out into the brimstone brushfire known also as a shopping mall to buy myself a new quote calendar on this twenty-sixth day of December, this two-thousand-ninth year of our lord --
An eminently stupid day, no matter how you cut it. Irredeemably stupid.
Even the poor sots going into battle to find a parking spot will readily acknowledge how insane this game is. But they do it anyway, and our great Wheel continues to accelerate as she turns. This is nothing less than the behaviour of junkies in the worse phase of a binge. Junkies with lines of credit.
I tell you, if we continue at this pace the Shopper Of The Future will have his Boxingdaymobile equipped with dent-proof side paneling, winches, and machine-gun turrets to ensure he can find himself a good close parking spot with minimal damage and/or casualties.
Of course, the vehicle will be a hybrid.
Below is an excerpt from Cornelious Benedict's critically-acclaimed Succinct Compendium of Consumption History, which he has benificently allowed my to quote (entry may be found on page 344 of the 2006 trade-paperback edition):
Dec 26. Celebrated wherever credit runs free.
May be appropriately regarded as a day of sacrifice to the Gods of Gluttony, Angst, and Debt, respectively.
Did you feel your pulse quicken? Did your jaw clamp down ever so slightly?
If you have exhibited any of these symptoms, please stay away from your local bank, ATM, or loanshark, on this day especially. They are the dealers in these maddening times.
[End Quote. Published with permission from C. Benedict, et al, 2004]
The reason I find this all so maniacal is because I can see the shoppers dancing but I do not hear their music; that, of course, is the point in an iPod. There's a line in the sand, and it's a vacuum.
What does it say about an era when our wisest men are laughed at, not out of ridicule, but because they are our comedians?