I was instantly reminded of one of the truly great cinematic soliloquies:
"I nursed him through two divorces, a cocaine rehab, and a pregnant receptionist. God's creature, right? God's special creature. I've warned him, Kevin. I've warned him every step of the way. Watching him bounce around like a fucking game. Like a wind-up toy. Like pounds of self-serving greed on wheels. The next thousand years is right around the corner. Eddie Barzoon... take a good look because he's the poster child for the next millennium. These people, it's no mystery where they come from. You sharpen the human appetite to the point where it can split atoms with its desire. You build egos the size of cathedrals. Fiber-optically connect the world to every eager impulse. Grease even the dullest dreams with these dollar-green gold-plated fantasies until every human becomes an aspiring emperor, becomes his own god. Where can you go from there? As we're scrambling from one deal to the next, who's got his eye on the planet? As the air thickens, the water sours, even bees honey takes on the metallic taste of radioactivity... and it just keeps coming, faster and faster. There's no chance to think, to prepare; it's buy futures, sell futures.. when there is no future. We got a runaway train, boy. We got a billion Eddie Barzoons all jogging into the future. Every one of them is getting ready to fistfuck God's ex-planet, lick their fingers clean, as they reach out toward their pristine, cybernetic keyboards to tote up their fucking billable hours. And then it hits home. You got to pay your own way, Eddie. It's a little late in the game to buy out now. Your belly's too full, your dick is sore your eyes are bloodshot and you're screaming for someone to help. But guess what, there's no one there! You're all alone, Eddie, 'CAUSE YOU'RE GOD'S SPECIAL LITTLE CREATURE."
"John Milton," played by Al Pacino in The Devil's Advocate, describing the milieu that gave rise to his doomed partner Eddie Barzoon.
Ah, that's utterly great. Thanks, Francis.
it also reminded me of The Simpsons's Stonecutter's song:
"Who controls the British Crown?
Who keeps the Metric System down?
We do! We do!
Who leaves Altantis off the maps?
Who keeps the Martians under wraps?
We do! We do!
Who holds back the electric car?
Who makes Steve Guttenberg a star?
We do! We do!
Who robs cave fish of their sight?
Who rigs every Oscar night?
We do! We do! "
Well, now I'm depressed after reading all that. No hope. We're through.
Don't despair, Jewel. The Good Guys win in the end.
The current world system will fall apart sooner or later. That doesn't mean we won't have to suffer, though. It took the USSR 70 years to fall apart.
The secret is to keep your fighting spirit up no matter how bad it gets. Think of Orwell's 1984. If Winston Smith had said, "Fuck you and your Room 101. MORE RATS!", he would have defeated Big Brother. All he had to do to win was conquer fear.
And what conquers fear?
Thanks Bruce. I'm having a crisis of faith and on the brink of converting to Roman Catholicism. If you knew the sort of religious upbringing I had, you'd know that I would be disowned and uggh. I am more optimistic than I sound, but Vanderleun channels the very devil so well the little hairs on my neck went all agley.
May I correspond with you privately regarding this matter? My own experiences may prove valuable to you.
You can write me at email@example.com. Of course, if you'd rather not, I completely understand.
That thing could make the centerpiece of one hell of a Broadway musical. Heh. Literally.
Maybe Gerard's telling us about his vacation to Hell. I just hope he gets back with the slides. We have to see the slides.
Get back here, Gerard!
In the meantime, I'm cooking up a counter-point to this awesome show-stopper.
You're makin' us get all worried.
Okay. I'm back. Regular posting to resume presently.