Saturday, In The Park (I Think It Was The 4th of July)

Saturday, in the park
I think it was the fourth of July
People dancing, people laughing
A man selling ice cream
Singing Italian songs
As an artist, there is no higher goal than recreating the feeling of children's innocent laughter. That simple joy we all yearn to keep till the day we die. That's why it is said: to enter the Kingdom of Heaven one must enter as a child. For you see, children don't know to lie. But then we get "smart" and spend the rest of our lives trying to get back to that innocent point.

Oh, I know what all the "smart" people say - the too-hip-to-be-hurt, the too-sly-to-cry, the too-slick-to-let-the-truth-stick crowd - I hear them all the time. I hear bitterness, wrath and vengeance - all sought upon themselves. They say, "That's the way it's gotta be, man!" and other such rot. But as for me, I'll take a Saturday in the park any day. Leave your hell behind and join in!

People talking, really smiling
A man playing guitar
Singing for us all
Will you help him change the world?
Oh, but then we see this on our lovely afternoon:


The good people were unanimous in their outrage:

"What a sick and cruel fate! No one should suffer a slow and painful death like this! No one! What sort of society commits such an act of barbarity? Not one with a future, I can tell you that! I don't care what that man has done, this cannot be tolerated! As a good and civilized people, we must remedy this offense to decency. Justice is a cornerstone of civilization, we'd crumble without it. You may say this is just one man, but I say our treatment of this one man defines us all. In fact, it defines our very future!"
Listen children all is not lost
All is not lost
Even a humanoid Republicant feigned outrage. "How dare they show such a thing in a public! Children are playing here. We must hide this so the little ones won't see our evil!"

The park festivities stopped in communal respect for the suffering soul on the cross. No one knew the man - he could be scum of the earth for all they knew - but that mattered not. Well written blogs of protest were posted and hailed for their morality. Never had the fabric of society come together so - and never had it been more obvious the vitalness of that fabric. The true safety net in life, they found, lay only with each other.

And thus was born the hope of a New Beginning. A different kind of hope - not like the empty one before held only by shut eyes. This was real and tangible, you could feel it. As one pair of smiling eyes looked into another, no words were necessary to convey the dawning joy. It was as if a long unspoken dream had come true at last. How strange, they noticed, that by facing their vulnerabilities they also had realized their greatest strength.

The feeling was one of immortality.

People reaching, people touching
A real celebration
Waiting for us all
If we want it, really want it
That's when word came back on the man being crucified under the afternoon sun as celebrations had danced around him: he was unemployed.

Again, the reaction was universal: "Oh, hell, nothing we can do about that. Tough luck, pal. Everyone has to pull their weight!"

And hope for all was replaced with viciousness for all.


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"Poverty is the worst form of violence."
-Mahatma Gandhi
The difference between crucifixion and homelessness is that crucifixion is more humane. Guess what happens when you get sick living out on the streets: you get sicker. Your arm could fall off and nobody would care. Worried about that lump on the back of your neck? Go ahead, worry yourself to death. You don't count, you're invisible and any harm that befalls you is considered just.

I know what all the serious suits say: yes, we have problems but we'll find a way. But I've got news for you and all other self-deceived souls: there is no way to live with savagery. What's most galling is that we don't even admit our savagery. We call it a "necessary evil". You "smart" people are so funny. This I can guarantee: all those who believe in a "necessary evil" will become unnecessary people.

I am not a good soul. I am not Jesus. I don't forgive and I don't forget. I hope all you fuckers burn in hell - and you will, mostly because you believe it will never happen.

I do count. I am somebody. My soul has worth no matter what my crimes. I judge you not but your judgement of my fate has sealed your own.

Give back to her as she has given;
pay her back double for what she has done.
Mix her a double portion from her own cup.
Give her as much torture and grief
as the glory and luxury she gave herself.
In her heart she boasts,
'I sit as queen, I am not a widow,
and I will never mourn.'
Therefore in one day her plagues will overtake her;
death, mourning, and famine.
She will be consumed by fire,
for mighty is the Lord God who judges her.
Mock it at your peril, you freaking, goddam morons. I don't quote the Bible, it quotes me.