4-Buck Gas: Response and Rant

You have finally got your dander up about the horrors of our new millenial regime, the fuckers who brought you 4-buck gas. Actually, somnabulist in the green-blue glow, or laughing nights away at sit-coms, we all brought this on ourselves. Forget the object-subject schism--it didn't happen while we were sleeping. We let the fuckers get away with their oily schemes.

Maybe we were all sleeping, sleeping since the 50s in the doldrums of the organization-man apathy, the conformist era of pleasing the boss, growing up absurd, living the pseudo-individualist existence as one of the lonely crowd, drugging ourselves to hide from the reality of inauthentic being, playing the many-hatted roles that kept us from revealing just who we were (are).

So people now have a new think coming. Why do I commute 100 miles, 40 miles, 20 miles, at 4-bucks a gallon for my $100-dollar day? We waste the water watering our grass, waste more gas mowing, water and weed our new-bought FreedieMayer annuals, leave our machines sleeping on parasite power to flick on instantly after a night's sleep. We have done it to ourselves. We are people in the world, in a world of relations, and in our own mind's world, and we have not put it all together to see that this was going sour all along.

Here a war, there a war, everywhere a war-war. Lordy, lordy, was that a massacre while I slept! Gee! Better go to church for catharsis. Pray to the lord that this isn't a regular massacre, a regular catastrophe, a regular global crime, a regular plunder of the poor, a regular dictator. Gotta get to church to keep from being aware that this is my world and I'm doing a job on this world of mine. God's at work between the feces and the bell tower. Koyanisqatttsi!

Glenn, let's hope some good comes from the shock of 5-buck, 6-buck, 7-buck
gas. The Brits are paying $9. -- your bro', driving slowly on the Idaho back roads,

David Gilmour June 2008