A “real” Post about “fake”events that I’m saying “actually” happened and that makes it true because I’m using “air quotes” that can no longer be seen. Anywhere. By Anyone. Trust me.

I, once again, have been off my pace, and now I know why.

I think.

I mean that guy and his fake story about Alice and her whacked-out adventures was lucky he lived when he did. People knew when he was saying one thing and actually meaning another and he did not need dozens of people to appear in town squares, coming to tell folks what the words were really all about.  True Life in those times was so recognizable that people, when confronted with strange times and stranger leaders, had a more immediate grasp of reality. They knew the Emperor was butt-naked and had a good laugh at his Royal Ignorance (even though some commented that he looked more “regal” than ever in his birthday suit, favoring him with the euphemistic nick-name, Lance Alot, except when he had passed by and they were “treated” to an out-sized posterior that took far too long a time to fade into the gaping crowd.)

So far, I’ve succumbed to the accepted practice of using ” ” marks to let you know that the chosen word or phrase might be open to challenge regarding its accuracy or appropriateness, et cetera. But I must tell you that I’m still recuperating from my latest slip-and-fall episode and consequently it is extremely difficult for me to constantly halt my train of thought and hunt for the right keys to execute an explanatory  ” ”  that any intelligent fellow-citizen of mine should be able to fill-in with a sufficient and accurate meaning for themselves. And don’t try that old fake news thing on me either. I know when I’m writing the truth. Trust me. People love me.

Yes, I said slip-and-fall episode, as there was, at the time, sufficient evidence around me to indicate negligence by person or persons unknown that occasioned my mishap. In true patriotic, responsible action, I immediately reached for my phone, not to dial 911 but to take a series of selfies and actual video of the entire, clearly preventable mishap scene. Unfortunately, my phone, along with all the  genuinely litigious photographic proof that could easily have subsidized my meager retirement benefits, disappeared forever.  I fought the loss of consciousness and rubbed away the fogginess of what was surly an incipient stage of “comatose-ness”; {I know, I know, I just liked the imagery and used Quotes}, and symptoms of skull fracture and blinked hard into the burning sun to read the gigantic, gold-plated sign with red neon letters, that stood a hundred and ninety-two feet in the air, proclaiming to all beings for miles around – WELCOME TO ABSURDIA 

Whaaaatt? To myself. I had heard of this place. Have a good friend, Jake, (you may recall a post of mine some time ago about Jake, see:(https://rharding0728.wordpress.com/2015/05/27/jake-jones-designer-drones-and-no-fly-zones/) who had moved here a long time ago seeking the Absurdian Dream but have not heard from him lately and definitely had no desire to visit him.

As I remember, it was not a very nice place. Not far from Bezerkistan as I recall.  The capital city is Ambigua, and the entire population is dependent on the old, corpulent, filthy rich white guys who control the economy and keep a solid lid on who gets paid how much, and who is given housing, and who is allowed to move around in and out of Absurdia. The other 99.9999% of Absurdians are, as they are wont to say, S.O.L. but, they shrug expectantly, ‘We at least have our Absurdian Dream‘.

They used to have a two-party ruling body of Shpin-Barphers … their word meaning — politicians, often shortened in slang to ‘barphies.  Absurdians are free to attempt a run for public office and be elected Shpin-Barphers if:

(1) they have a net worth of 250 million absurdianniaritos ( i.e. approximately 3.5 billion US 2017 dollars); money here is revered as being in direct  proportion to intelligence, honesty, impeccable altruistic behavior, and a singular, outstanding knack for closing a slick deal that benefits Absurdia-First. Period.  Currently, ‘barphies are separated into “A” barphies and “B” barphies, two distinct factions who always agree on every piece of legislation but only after months of paid political advertising and artful deal negotiating and fund-raising rallies. They don’t need much international diplomatic experiennce, since any Deal Adversaries who stubbornly try to get the better of an Absurd Proposition, are routinely cut off from all meaningful commerce and often just have the shit bombed out of them, thus saving both time and valuable Absurdian armed forces, who, currently outnumber the total population of India and The Vatican City State combined, probably because the Nuns, important Clerics, and the Pope  are not counted in the Vatican census;

and: (2) they must have mastered the difficult art (if they were not congenitally so gifted), of being able to speak out of both sides of their mouths at the same time while imparting contradictory information, in multiple languages if so gifted, a practice that often leads to extremely and chronically over-puffed cheeks (facial, that is), that gives the entire professional Shpin-Barpher class a look that has been called by some who would glorify the appearance as, “The Honorable Dizzy Gillespie Facade”, even though not one in a thousand can even play a trumpet, but still the have the added benefit of being able to mesmerize citizens who are so busy waiting for any one Barfiso to faint from lack of oxygen or emit any kind of pleasant sound of escaping air at all, ultimately have no idea what the topic of discussion was and simply agree to their messages out of boredom and frustration that what has been proposed is at least good for Absurdia First, thus making it good for all devout Absurdians  in a sort of trickle-down saliva-sprayed inspiring kind of way.

Honestly, they love the whole tribal experience, especially since they learned to nod agreement in unison and bring their own towels to political meetings.

My recently impaired brain, now throbbing with bad Jake memories and probably experiencing grey-matter hematoma which promised a long, expensive medical treatment should I somehow find my way home, discouraged as I was by my lack of adequate insurance and unjustly deprived of clinical selfie proof by Absurdian fate, began to focus on dozens of what must have been local residents who had materialized around me. Since they all dressed alike, unified in style, substance, and color with no inkling of creativity or individual tastes to be spotted anywhere, I assumed they must be Absurds.

I thought the best approach to be the casual, full throttle Yankee style of greeting, all smiles and no BS grin to spook them… “Hey, dudes, thanks for showing up to give me a hand. I love your country and your total Absurdness. We’ve got nothing like this back home.”

I was totally put-off. Talk about a tough crowd, no one even blinked. A wary voice shot out from somewhere in the solid mass of the ranks before me – “Who the hell are you and why are you here? Followed by a surly murmuring among them, rumbling all together: Silly freakin’ twit, must be lost; Looks like Jimmy Carter grinnin’ at a peanut crop; Lets just bust his tookus for a while and see if he goes away, etc, etc, etc.

Suddenly, I was stunned as a familiar voice rang out; “Yo, rd, that you??”

Good grief.  Now I knew where I was. “Hi, Jake, that you?”

“Yeah, dude. How did you get here”.

“No idea, Jake. Last I knew we were having a presidential election and I was going into a voting booth, sporting a Dems Forever button. I think I slipped and fell and lost consciousness. What am I doing in Absurdia?”

“Wow, man, that was about five months ago. But don’t worry. You will fit right in here if you want to stay”.

“Not in my plans, Jake. I really want to go back to my normal home in the US Democratic Republic of North America, where any boy or girl, regardless of personal wealth or mafia level connections, can be President. Besides, I think I have a dandy lawsuit to slap on the County.”

“…Well, dude, things have changed back there for sure. Your back-home Dems are out in left field and the home-boy Republicans are really in charge, as long as they keep their noses where the money chute is and keep the voting mushrooms in the dark.”

“Nothing new there, Jake. Your guys do the same thing don’t they?”

“Kind of, rd, but life here is a lot less stressful. Our mushrooms know they survive in up-to-their-ears do-do, so they don’t rock any boats, keep their heads in the clouds and hope the Absurdian Dream of trickle-down prosperity eventually comes true.”

“Good luck with that Jake, but I’ll take my chances back home, where the deer and the antelope play. After all, we are the land of the free and the home of the brave, remember? We’re not done yet with bringing freedom and justice for all those folks we have liberated regardless of race or religion. With Market Share like that, I don’t think our dreams can fail.”

“OK, rd. I don’t want to disillusion your American Dream, but remember, I’m here if you ever need me or want to come live in Absurdia, I will gladly sponsor you for citizenship. Actually, I think you might be closer to living our dream than you realize.”

“Just then my head felt like it was spinning, slowly at first, then with increasing speed, to the point where I could feel my whole body dissolving as it were. like the wicked witch in Oz, and woke up in a cold sweat in my neighborhood ER.

“Well…welcome back to the real world friend”, said the guy in green scrubs. “Glad to see your eyes open. How are you feeling?”

“A little dizzy but otherwise, fine. Is this Absurdia?”

 “Hmmm…. Can’t rightly say sir. You apparently stumbled and hit your head going into your local poling place. They brought you in with a mild concussion. Don’t quite know where Absurdia is, but this right here will have to do for now.”

   “Hmmmm,” to myself…

   “We’ll have your discharge papers and your bill ready as soon as possible.”