The 2021 HOLIDAY EXTRAVAGANZA E! STORY
2021 He-e'S BAAAACK!
"They!", i.e., Sidney Lumet and the writers and actors behind the 1976 blockbuster(?) NETWORK, exactly what it is now commonly agreed we are: an Oligarchy run by the landed gentry and all those economically above them. Even as the 2021 Year-In-Review Festival ROARS to its inevitable conclusion, it bears repeating that then-MIT Professor of Linguistics Noam Chomsky ( in 1988) published Manufacturing Consent. Serendipitously, his trenchant tome established as verifiable fact that "Network" the film was verfiable reality; white Eurocentric culture's self assessment. Now, its 3:09 am in Los Angeles, and I wake up with Bette Davis, Joan Crawford, Bing Crosby, and Faye Dunaway were and in Ms. Dunaway's case still are in their real-life personas. All were as sick as the child-&- adult abusers we now seem to read about daily in 2021. The only difference between the two groups is that those in 2021 lack the access to money, power, and their handmaiden, political control needed to keep their dirty laundry private. Considering the history of public health emergencies since the circa WWI flu pandemic, even nature attempted to jumpstart homo sapiens out of its massive mental breakdown. But each of nature's messages was ever more stridently dismissed in a witches' brew of misogyny, jingoism, fear, self-loathing, suicide from ingesting the plastic referenced in The Graduate, and the opioid/ opioid-derivative(s!) addictions that felled ancient Chinese governance and society that has a stranglehold around Planet Earth as I write this chilly and unseasonably warm December 2021 Sunday morning. Good morning, fellow Citizens of the United Confederacy of American Oligarchs. Now that Washington, DC has celebrated all the Holidays for 2021 and gone to their respective State residences to spend quality time with their families, my current neighborhood remains eerily quiet and subdued. I hear a lone car speeding down an otherwise deserted street. "Hello Darkness, my old friend. It is the Sound of Silence, a.k.a. by my fellow Rainbow tribespeople as SILENCE = DEATH. The opioid-and-or-debt-zombies were much less aggressive and or flesh-eating as Hollywood has always imagined them to be. Walking home from a gathering of my same age cohort of breeder neighbors, everyone I greeted acknowledged my greeting. Now, universally, all the dogs I saw were happier and orders of magnitude more playful than any of their parents and or pet sitters. That was oddly refreshing, in the same way the Stepford, CT couples were creepily calmingly comedic.
To be continued...
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Hey Aloha Joe! Remember how you laughed at my electronic crickets? As soon as I figure out how, I'm going to make them the background and opening sounds of my 2022 Internet radio broadcasts. According to the Farmer's Almanac, the louder the crickets, the colder the winter.😉🤩🤪🙃🙂🤑😢