CNN is running its insipid series "The Sixties" in an attempt to somehow prove the alleged advanced morality of these times. It's a sly trick but rewriting history to suit the present has a never ending appeal. Were they to actually be honest, the truth would be too painful to bear and we'd all be sitting around in sackcloth and ashes in contemplation - a prescription I've been calling for for some time.
But then I found myself dreaming of that wondrous time and cursing God for never doing anything for me - which is not true. Sometimes I get what I ask for only to find out it sucks and sometimes - on rare occasion - a dream comes true which I duly fuck up (oh, Em...). So I found myself yearning for the adolescence of this generation and the explosion of color and life that was the Sixties as opposed to the dreary gray drab times we live in now. Surely, those swinging times had to be better.
Suddenly, my prayer was answered. I found myself sitting in the living room of Sheriff Andy Taylor with Aunt Bee. The house which had seemed so quaint and serene on TV was in fact dark and shadowed around the edges in a way that made me want to scream. The repression in the air was visible to my eyes, leaving me with a feeling of being stuck in molasses, unable to move as freely as I needed.
"Better not be fucking meatloaf again."
"Yes, sir, that Opie is a fine boy. That boy listens to his father. He's going to grow up just fine. Ain't that right, Harry?"
I was brought right into the conversation as if I'd lived there all my life. But something was wrong - very seriously wrong.
"Opie fine? Are you nuts? He's whacking off three times a day thinking about his classmates. This is the Sixties and the world is springing to life. He can't help but feel it."
"He better not let me catch him feeling it! He's going to grow up to be a repressed, angry Republican like the Good Book says he should. If not, I'll tan his hide until he's too sore to sit down."
"You mean like you do your prisoners?"
"Heck, yeah. Folks is always thinking they're gonna get get away with somethin'. Teaching 'em a lesson and setting them on the right path is the job of the enlightened."
"Otis certainly took offense at your rehabilitation methods."
"Otis is a drunk. How can he be right about anything? Sure he hates it when he wakes up and finds out I done pissed all over him but that's his own darn fault!"
"Hey, Pop, check out the legs on that!"
Aunt Bee's prim and proper feathers were ruffled. "I don't think I want to hear any more of such talk. Can we get onto a more genteel subject, please?"
But her facade melted in my eyes too. "Aunt Bee, what about all those lesbian thoughts you have? You're dying for some forbidden fruit!"
"You've no proof of that!"
"Oh, yeah? Church is the worst time. Your eyes wander around the hemlines as much as Opie's."
Andy was shocked. "Aunt Bee! Why I never - "
"Listen to you two hypocrites. I'm nothing but a slave in this house. I make up for all my impure thoughts by cleaning and cooking and serving like a dog - but it's never enough!"
Then the news popped on the TV, announcing the President's visit to Dallas that day.
"No! No! What day is this??"
"November 22nd. What's got into you?"
"This can't be, it can't be! It's too much! I can't take this twice. You can't go back, you can never go back!"
"You want to put your dick where??"
"What in tarnation are you carrying on about?"
"The President! He'll be taken out today. This is more terrible to experience than I ever imagined. Waves of blackness are blinding my mind."
"That has to be the most foolish thing I've ever heard in my life," scolded Andy. "Ain't nobody in this country going to do a thing like that. We're just not capable of it. This is a fine Christian country and I won't stand to hear talk like that."
"Hear! Hear!" agreed Aunt Bee.
"Everything here is a lie. Gomer's a complete nut, walking around naked at night just so he can flash his schlong."
"That's a lie! He just sleepwalks naked sometimes."
"Only a matter of time before he turns homicidal in frustration and joins the military. He ends up massacring a Vietnamese village spurring a bitter controversy on whether he's a hero or a heel."
"Gomer just needs his sleeping pills and he's fine. Thank God for science!"
"And Floyd the barber has been paying a woman in Raleigh to spank him with his leather strap while he barks like a dog. Take a look at that thing the next time you're in there."
"Now that's just silly. Floyd just likes to bark when telling his dog jokes."
"And Barney sits there at night loading his one humiliating bullet in his gun trying to get up the courage to blow his brains out and end his useless life."
"Oh, Barney's fine too. He just likes to joke around about ending it all. Iffen he gets to talkin' about it too much I just slap him real hard and he stops, problem solved!"
The madness was overwhelming me, drowning me - and I began to understand. "You can't escape the time continuum! I'm going mad! I must get back in the flow."
"Continue M? What the heck you talking about?"
"The flow of time. You don't realize you're in it until you're pulled out. I was a fool to try, no matter how shitty things are. The longer I stay here the more I disintegrate. I feel a thousand worms crawling up inside me."
"You got the devil in you! We need to get you some shock therapy."
"Just one thing I did want to say while I still have time: buy Xerox! You'll make a fortune. To hell with not messing with history."
"Buy Z rocks? I'm thinking I just might need to shoot you down like a mad dog."
But then I was sucked back to the present of my tattered couch and moonlit apartment in cheap east Dallas. Slowly, the level of insanity began to recede. I hate these times, I truly do. But I understand more now. I'm right where I belong. Damn.