Bloggy McBlog Blog

Hurley, NY — It really ticks me off how many people do things that I don’t like or approve of and GET AWAY WITH IT again and again. Just the other day a guy went through a stop sign while I was trying to cross the street and then just kept driving as if nothing had happened, even after I HAD YELLED AT HIM! Where is the justice? What will happen to this man so that someday he will have a REALIZATION that he did something wrong and he must suffer for it? Will God punish him? How about those fat cats down in Washington? I don’t think so.

And what if I were to TAKE JUSTICE INTO MY OWN HANDS? Would that be better? Yes. But still, it’s so much trouble. Like many of you, I used to keep a vengeance list. A few choice names, each one with one, two or three black skulls next to it. People who would someday feel my wrath. Who would be punished with vicious pointed blogging, or even better, vicious pointed sticks. But after the list had been through the laundry a few times I couldn’t really read it any more. The project of starting a new list seemed daunting.

And what is justice anyway? Is it an artificial concept that mankind hangs on to in the vain attempt to find a rational meaning behind our pointless existence? To find something better than the strong exploit the weak in an endless bestial cycle of conflict over ever dwindling resources? Or is it something else? Something real? Is there a divine will that sits in judgment above us all, and inspires in us a sense of what is right or wrong, whether we follow our instincts or bury our better natures and just act out of greed. And how do e-mails promising me a larger penis and a thicker fuller head of hair fit into all that? What if I wanted Viagra or a mortgage? What then?

Justice belongs to those who own it. Right and wrong are two opposite extremes of a scale of rightness and wrongness. Sin is something you do that you shouldn’t.

I’ll get out of bed tomorrow.

New York, NY — I am surprised by how many people do not realize that I am a TORTURED SOUL. I am one of those CREATIVE GENIUSES who must suffer in order for others to experience GREAT ART and read blogs. I am, I tell you!

New York, NY — If you live in New York you know what I’m talking about. The slowly spreading corrugated roof that’s spreading over the city, like the covered sidewalks of Bologna. Day by day workmen drive into the city from Yonkers, Long Island, New Jersey, their beat-up trucks laden with sheets of plywood, discarded nails and screws, caged light bulbs and mile after mile of metal supports and, selecting a building almost at random they surround its first story with the artificial mid-afternoon of immovable scaffolding. Building after building is targeted. Soon whole neighborhoods are submerged into a basement existence of Laverne and Shirley proportions.

It is inevitable that the whole city will be covered in scaffolding. And after that there is only one thing that can happen. ANOTHER LAYER OF SCAFFOLDING. Scaffolding that covers not only the sidewalk, but the streets. Scaffolding that BLOCKS OUT THE SUN for all WHO WALK THE EARTH. Even our city’s lovely parks will be scaffolded over by these men from beyond our bridges and tunnels. A single thin layer of plywood painted green and edged with razor wire will encompass the whole of the city. All that will be visible from Brooklyn Height’s famed Promenade, one of the finest attractions of that fine neighborhood, a bastion of peace and tranquility, where New Yorkers can enjoy Manhattan amenities at Brooklyn prices, will be one solid band of green, spotted with temporary vinyl signs for local businesses, and then tower forms of buildings more than three stories tall tower over it.

Soon clear social distinctions will develop between those who live above the scaffolding (let’s call them Eloi for the sake of argument) and those who live below (whom we will call Morlocks). Those whose homes lie above the always rising scaffolding line will be given special passes that will allow them to ride the special monorail that will glint whitely in the sun, while those below will be issued monthly metrocards that will allow them only onto the subways and buses, a distinction that will cease to have meaning as the streets become tunnels and the subways become full of crazed Morlocks and rules such as “No radio playing” and “Do not lean on the door” cease to be enforced.

Eventually the scaffolding line will form a permanent boundary between the haves and the have-lesses. With special permits being required to pass from above to below or from below to above. Only in this possibly dystopian future it’s the poor people who suffer most. They will be relegated to living in the depths of the sub-scaffolding world and the right who live their lives in the sun, IN AN INSANE PERVERSION OF THE AMERICAN DREAM.

What can we do? We must find out who these men are who bring the scaffoldings. We must find out where they come from and we MUST STOP THEM. Who pays for these scaffoldings? Plywood and corrugated steel aren’t free. IS IT THOSE FAT CATS IN WASHINGTON? What do they seek to gain by their demonic plot? We must act now!

That’s the question that’s been plaguing the world. WHAT HAPPENED? Did my spirit collapse under the vast weight of the task I had set myself? Did the demands of the so-called REAL WORLD take me away from doing the WORK? Was the fact that certain people think that, even though there has been an increase in minimum wage, it’s still not enough money if you are only working two days a week? People who have normal jobs that don’t require the kind of EFFORT that blogging does? People who think that making dinner has to mean cooking?
It could be any of these things. But, really, I JUST HAVEN’T FELT LIKE IT!
Even when The Onion, that New York transplant weekly from Wisconsin, (WISCONSIN! I scream to the clouds above) born of late nights of strained “concepting” and “editing” over steaming bowls of beer-cheese soup, even when they stole my idea for a pizza with little pizzas all over it and put it on the front page of their weekly publication that is so bad that they have to GIVE IT AWAY (unlike my blog, which you get on the internet, which you have to pay for) I did not feel the need to take keyboard in hand and CRY OUT TO THE WORLD that THEY ARE THIEVES and JUDASES and MONKEY BUTTS! I simply was not so moved.
Art can not be forced. You can not simply sit down and say, now I will create a masterpiece. You can not just schedule a time, from 3:30PM to 5:40PM for instance, when you will close the door (or curtain if it’s only really a curtain) to your walk-in closet/office and start DOING GREAT WORK. You can not set aside a time to BE A GENIUS. Either you are ready and the work calls to you or you are not ready and it doesn’t call. Or it calls and you’re not ready. One of those. And sometimes not the good one.