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The Best of Times

Back in the 21st-century shit got a little crazy. People were so tired of politicians that one Tuesday afternoon they elected a new President who was an actual shit flinging ape.

The ape was your run of the mill animal who beat his chest if anyone got too close to his bananas. Many of the good citizens found this sort of honesty refreshing. They were tired of being lied to. Now they had something they could easily understand, an animal that made angry noises if anything got too close to his bananas. Or too close to their bananas, they hoped.

The bananas unfortunately, changed depending on the ape’s mood and what the talking light box said. The talking light box was a form of simplified reality that everyone could comprehend, without having to engage their brains. Brains had proven to be far too open to chaos and easily overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of existence. This occurred during the early part of the industrial revolution. Luckily, it was found that various drugs were sufficient to dull and excite the frontal cortex as needed.

Tired in the morning and don’t want to go to work? There’s a delicious warm drug to nurse you into the fray! And if that’s insufficient there are more powerful drugs. Can’t focus at work or school? Try more drugs. All kinds and flavors! Done with work and you need to blow off some steam? Drinks, smoke sticks, powders and pills! Combine with electric music and you’ll be laughing and crying and fucking and fighting in no time! That’s all any pent-up creature truly longs for. Can’t sleep? Worried you’ve acted a fool on all those drugs? You guessed it, we’ve got more drugs to help you sleep like the dead!

One of the many new problems the shit flinging president revealed was that drugs were no longer enough. 

The dumb animal president had exposed us. Come to find out, we the masses were just a bunch of dumb scared animals too. Unable to face the fact we were childish ignorant imbeciles propped up on drugs and technology, we began to search out something to blame. The glowing light boxes and drugs were our only comfort so we certainly couldn’t blame them.  So, we began to blame each other.

This wasn’t too bad in the beginning. People were either pro dumb animal president or not. But it began to devolve. Some blamed the ape’s handlers. Others blamed the people who voted for the ape. Those who voted for the ape were so tired of the naysayers they blamed the younger generation or even other races or religions. Suddenly everyone was divided and arguing or dimly repeating what everyone else said.

We became suspicious and retreated to our caves and light boxes. No one spoke in public, but we formed secret armies on the light box. In a sad hilarious moment, one specific sex and color of human beings suggested we should divide up by color or sex. Like in the old days! Someone pointed out that was only beneficial for the one sex and one color, which coincidently was the same as the one suggesting it.

Meanwhile, the salesmen scientists were busy on a new reality. A virtual reality where anyone could be anything they wanted and the center of their own little story. Our current world would become fully automated and we’d climb inside the colored light boxes where things were simple and made sense and no one would be hurt. If the world became too toxic, we could stage the whole thing on Mars or out in space.

We just had to be careful not to blow the place up. Plus, we had to figure out what to do with the shit flinger in chief.

Does anyone remember if we went into a new virtual reality or if we finally came to our senses and took personal responsibility? Either way, we eventually found the enemy we couldn’t face. It was us. (Suprise!) Luckily, the hero was us too. As was the lover, the hater, the artist, the motherfucker, and even perhaps one troublesome little shit flinging ape.

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