( a Barbie execution : source unknown )
Work in Progress : Operation Dancing Polanski
A beautiful weekend that felt like spring was cycling back in a full erotic dance in defiance of the calendar. And then the horrible german election news. The idiots won… it wasn’t a surprise, ya know, but then the morning after is a little bit like waking up with a decapitated horse head in your bed.
Monday hit with a full gray plunge, cold, wet, an awaiting flat bike tire, piles of work, bank account looking like a ship getting torn in two by a reef in the shallows… and debates about whether Roman Polanksi deserves a bloody nose or a noose or should be given slack for the rape of a 13 yr. old girl cause he’s such an Auteur and fun-lovin wild guy with a get-out-of-jail-free Holocaust survivor card. Oh when things are bad it’s a great time to stew in the hatred of celebrity fuckheads. And what a perfectly timed distraction… makes you wonder if there is no man behind the curtain: Mass media is a digitally automated smokescreen machine, which will never fail … until it’s unplugged.
And then of course after all the blathering morality and personal perspectives ( with respected friends ) the next day comes and nothing’s done. Not even the slightly pleasurable sensation of a bruised fist that landed solid the night before.
A thousand other stories were in the dock. Everybody’s got one. We at XLt were reminded of the anniversary? of our friend and comrade, Kirsten Brydum, ( more info at Indybay ) that heroic community renegade with flowers in her hair, murdered in the streets of NOLa in 2008. And if there was any kind of functioning mathematics of justice, it would link this godforsaken city to a few past administration goons who left its citizens, even now, to rot.
And in our version:
On the first gloomy day of autumn they’d be dragged out of their cells at dawn, lined up before a firing squad, and some transgressive Hollywooden king of the clowns could be given the burden of deciding whether they should Fire! … or not. The longest slowest shot in Spectacle history, a camera pans the public awaiting his decision, palpitating and breathless like an inside-out television monitor inserted into his own over-bloated chest.
Sometimes when reality kicks in, you just need to kick the f*ck back !