jeanwhaleywilliams

Ladies and Gentlemen, children, Bozos . . . Live in the future now! It’s right around the corner.  Yes, in fact, it’s come right here!  “A Fair for All and No Fair/Fare to Anybody!” Government inflicted simulation.  The future can’t wait – no place to hide.  You could see into the future; it’s just starting now.  The future is fun!  The future is fair! You may already have won! You may already be there.

Hello, Globetrotters!  Let’s look around and see where we are.

This fall marks the 41^st anniversary of The Firesign Theatre’s seminal surreal comedy album, “I Think We’re All Bozos on This Bus!”, an old-time radio theater take on a near future dystopia.

 We didn’t know then that living, as we know it, was already taken over – but they did.

“Prescient” is a word you’ve probably not encountered often unless you read a lot of Anne Rice novels.  But in 1971, those guys were talking about the sponges, which came along and sucked up about 10% of all life.  And how, in fear and hot water, Man was born.  It’s all downhill from here.  “If you push something hard enough, it will fall over!”

The 26^th Amendment granting voting rights to 18-year olds was ratified in the summer of 1971 and, in Fall 1972, I voted in my first Presidential election.  The choice was Richard M. Nixon and Spiro Agnew or George McGovern and Sargent Shriver.  My Daddy and I had our first political fight.  I screamed that Nixon was a crook and he laughed that a liberal had no chance.

Sure, understanding today’s complex world of the future is a little like having bees live in your head.  But there they are.  I like the future.  I’m in it.  Live it; or live with it!  What does this mean?

“Where can I get a job?!” was often heard in 1971-72.  Many busy executives asked, “What about the job displacement market program in the city of the future?” and were told, “Well, count on us to be there.  Because if we’re lucky tomorrow, we won’t have to deal with questions like that ever again.”

“The Stepford Wives” satirical thriller came out in 1972, Nixon won, and soon thereafter somebody broke the President.  Is there anything you didn’t understand about your future?

As inevitable as dawn, election season is once again upon us.  Please, everyone, lock your wigs, let the air out of your shoes and prepare yourselves for a period of simulated exhilaration.  Let consternation turn to lucidation.  The President is the terminal bus.  Now follow the yellow rubber line to your polling place, past the Tomb of the Unregistered Voter.  Exit to Funway.

And who wins, and who loses?  People like you – and you.  As my friend wisely advised, “Ask not what your country can do for you – ask under which administration you’d rather be long-term unemployed.”

Stand on steady blue lines.  Remember, the rubber lines are for your convenience and protection.  This is (former) Worker speaking.  Thank you.