They and I: A Continuing Epic Polarization

At age six and definitely not seven,

They

told

Me

I

had to be “normal,”

so, for the summer break,

I

was arrested, cuffed, gagged, opiated, straitjacketed, boxed up

and FedEx’d off to an institution for the mentally slightly off,

one of those places with an impressive sprawling front lawn

of the finest Kentucky bluegrass,

philanthropy’d by some guy who called himself Colonel,

but was never actually in any war,

because he drank with his money-buddies

while Vietnam went on and on for acres and hectares and someone’s GDP,

like this goddamn front lawn,

and anyway it had this entrance with a magnificent

marquee of polished stone that announced its grandeur

in a very southern self-congratulatory and Colonelly manner,

where,

I

was told by

They

My

head would be deflated,

according to the established

and highly respected and internationally recognized rules

of experimental psychiatry and modern medicine, until

My

cranium and all its beautiful mush

more closely resembled the cute miniature

shrunken heads of all the other children

My

age, those who were patted on the head by

the esteemed Head of

They

for being cute, sweet little subservient

and obedient whatsits,

which, as

They

daily tell us in the papers,

are the foundation of modern American society,

which is what

They's

representatives recently PR'd during an interview for this piece by

Me,

who,

I

am happy to report, told

They

and theirs to fuck off and be merry,

because life is too short to live by the arcane and

whimsical rules of experimental psychiatry,

modern medicine or any other ridiculous invention of

They,

a spiritual belief

I

practice to this very day.