Sunday, September 11, 2016
The Joker's Wild
I watched the play I'd scripted play out from my second floor apartment window in the parking lot below. The girl in her black dress slacks all ready for her first day on the job was in a panic. Her car - an old muscle car of her boyfriend's - wouldn't start. I could hear her screaming at him over her cell phone as I laughed my ass off. The confusion, the frustration, the crucifixion - welcome to my life!
Ever wonder why the Boston strangler strangled? Because he couldn't breathe. Every life is helplessly driven to make every other life just like it is. And life without the Missing Piece is hell on earth, literally.
The Missing Piece for that girl was that I sabotaged her distributor cap. 30 minutes later her boyfriend arrived, apologetic and also deeply confused. Best part was when he tried to explain the car had been sabotaged and she laid into him big time not to put off his giving her a crappy car. Yup, sucks when you tell the truth and that only makes everyone angrier. He didn't have the Missing Piece, either. So DIE, bitches!
I so enjoyed my feeling of power. Frankly, I was a bit surprised it worked. Almost invariably my plans go awry. But this time they came off without a hitch like the magical bullets guided into Kennedy, my mind clear and focused though doused with paranoia while in the act, not riddled with guilt like I usually am. Everything goes wrong when you try to do right but everything goes right when you try to do wrong. Maybe we should endeavor to become Michael Corleone, after all.
I, of course, have a Missing Piece to my life that leaves me in perpetual bewilderment and frustration. Like the boyfriend down below, explaining my truth only makes my predicament more dire. People don't want to hear it and we're willing to make life and death judgments based on just that. Now, had she trusted her boyfriend's explanation and allowed him to communicate I'd have been found out - in deed if not in name.
But she didn't! The pressure she was under was too great. I'd been inspired by hearing a chat she had by the mailboxes telling of her new job and how anxious she was about it. What better plan than to sabotage her first day at work in a distrustful world? If her employer is as mistrustful as she is of her boyfriend she'll have one hell of a miserable day - and never even know the reason why! Wow, it really is good to be God.
It was a great feeling being the Manipulator instead of the Manipulated, for once. So this is how people in power feel. You get to fuck with everybody and nobody can do anything about it. And one truly does feel the hand of God is guiding your malfeasance. Why not shamelessly lie as a politician? Why not damage your company's long term prospects to up your short term bonus? Living under the fiction we reward truth and justice is suicide in its worst form.
It's the criminals who stand at the top of heap. What an (useful) idiot I've been trying to be "honest". Of course, all the bad actors will exhort the suckers to be "good" so they can continue their bad ways unperturbed. It's plain as day now that I'm part of the con. Worship me, I am your secret god hiding behind the blinds of my window!
I rejoiced in the dejected body language of the girl she returned home. SUCKS, doesn't it? Tortured and kicked in the nuts and never to know why. Best part is she's a churchgoer too. Pray your ass off, honey! See all the goddam good it will do you! I figure in a couple of weeks she'll just about be getting her footing back underneath her. That's when another "accident" will happen with her car. And if she gets a different car, same thing. It will never end, she'll lose her job, and then one morning she'll wake up wondering if it wouldn't be better just to eat a bullet.