‘If it’s normal then it’s good’, I shout out at the top of my voice, for no good reason at all. In praise of all things normal, I presume. In honour of them. Peace and contentment return to our poor unsettled minds when there is mention of the delightfully normal, the triumphantly normal. Redemption is ours. ‘Glory be’, I breathe, ‘glory be.’ Thank God that there’s other ejits like me…
Do you know that situation where you can’t get things to do what you want them to do? You’re getting so angry you could hurt yourself. You could do yourself an injury. You’re beside yourself with rage, you’re screaming like a freak, you’re hopping up and down like a nincompoop. You are jumping up and down, up and down, making a complete and utter jackass of yourself. You couldn’t make a bigger jackass of yourself if you tried!
We love to memorise a whole bunch of dumb stupid facts and then go around saying that we are educated – that’s the type of jackass world we live in, isn’t it? Whatever did we do in order to deserve being born into a world like this, you want to know? How could such a world even be possible? There isn’t a creature on earth that – if left to its own devices – would want to create a world like this. No way. Not even the craziest crazybug would want to make a word like this. Crazybugs have their own dignity, after all – they have their own dignity and we don’t. We gave our dignity away; we gave our dignity away because we didn’t want it anymore.
Instead of dignity we created Disneyland. ‘If every other jackass in town believes it then it must be true’, we say. That’s our mantra. ‘If every other dumbass dipstick does it then for sure we’d better do it too’, we say. Dignity doesn’t matter a damn to us, you see; nothing matters to us just as long as we can arrange it so we can carry on with our jackass tomfoolery without ever being disturbed. Just as long as every other jackass in town is saying it then we’ll say it too. We’ll say it too and – what’s more – we’ll be proud to say it. Damn right we’ll be proud…
‘Do you accept Mickey Mouse into your heart as your personal saviour?’ squawks the relentlessly grinning Telly Evangelist in your head, and we feel moved to do so. Damn right we feel moved to do so. ‘Count me in, buddy,’ we say. ‘Hallelujah brothers and sisters! Mickey has given me a message to pass on to you…’ The bugs in the garden have more cop-on than we do. We’re worshipping at the Church of Mickey, and we don’t care who knows it!
