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Written in 2002

It was a complete farce and he knew it. The suicide bombers were trembling on the world screen. They were going into the LA vineyards and disrupting his concentration. It was just another secret conspiracy. Or was it more than one. They were possibly clashing on principle. Hitting the right buttons and and just making a bloody mess of things. Stupid things real bugged out and stumbling. Itching for a shower and shave.

Then the knock on the door.

" Can I talk to you? I need to talk to you. " It was a distant voice. It sounded possibly like Billie Holiday falling off the Twin Towers. It was so smooth and steamy like Chardonney. He had heard this voice before on the silver screen. Just a few blocks away. He loved it. It was addictive. It was rickety and...

" You're not washing the tin cans. We' re recycling them you know. You're not paying for the soap. You're not pulling back the shower curtains. Geez, I can't walk naked in the house because of you. I can't... "

He looked into the thick steamy screen with its lamp-light of arguements. The filthy currency markets were going crazy. The Yen had gone up 250 pips in two hours. Then suddenly 150 pips down in just ten minutes. These were certainly the kind of moves that could make serious money even for fools. The world was on fire. It was looking for cactus plants and saying " hands up. " It was breathing in the purple air. Where were those suicide bombers now? Were they in Calcutta, Montreal, maybe Haifa?

The voice continued its litany. "You never clean the sink. You never pull the living room curtains in at night. It's not ecologically efficient. You can only use the shower for ten minutes. Also you can't take baths. You can't... "

He had loved that voice on the silver screen. Even if it was committing adultery.The editors and translators were screaming for their getaway money. It was suicide time for the snuffed-out planet. There were these large gas shells exploding everywhere. In Chinatown and then in California. So where were the aliens? Why hadn't they arrived? They were overdue.

How could one explain in fifteen languages the nature of the problem? It was everywhere in the air. Under the sea and up in the Himalayas. He had just loved her so much on the silver screen. He turned off the computer and just missed the last bus to Mississippi.

She began screaming:

" I DON'T UNDERSTAND YOU. " She walked away.

This was CNN on a good evening. It roared in the mysterious night and he just loved it.



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The following comments are for "The Complexity of Seeing These Chicks on CNN"
by gamblerman





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