"Marc Laidlaw - Open Open Letter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laidlaw Marc)

respect of your peers at The Appleyard Char-Broiled Steak and Assisted Living Manor by thrusting up
your swollen-knuckled fist in a degraded mockery of the timeless тАЬFight the PowerтАЭ gesture, while
mouthing тАЬYo! Ho! Slither on me poтАЩ!тАЭ

I have been trying but failing to see how this sad performance might have marked an important
penultimate capstone to your generational quest. Do you not remember the long dusty road through the
orange groves, how on dry September mornings you would lead the pony to the schoolhouse with your
brother on its back, your little brother Lee now almost exactly 50 years in the grave? What thoughts of
Lee passed through your mind as you gyrated your pelvis against the stocky buttocks of MonroeтАЩs star
quarterback Bruce Pontullis, begging him to make you his biyatch? Is this the sort of тАЬFreedomтАЭ brother
Lee had in mind when he gave his life on Pork Chop Hill? Forget what I felt when I heard the тАЬbтАЭ word
falling from your slack chaps. You donтАЩt know me, after all, and I am old enough to be your
great-grandchild. But imagine LeeтАЩs reaction! If this was some sort of attempted tribute to his
participation in the Korean War, coinciding with the 50 Year Commemoration that was wrapping up just
about the time this flick hit the big screen, then I fear you fell far wide of the mark!



Could it be that am I missing something here? Am I failing to read enough into your performance, by
perhaps unfairly assuming your acquiescence to this degrading act was merely an attempt to stave off the
even greater and more thorough debasement threatened by Medicare and Medicaid? Is my kneejerk
analysis simply that? The shallow, reactionary twitch of some jerkтАЩs knee?

Perhaps by participating in this cultural remix, you were lashing out at the very notion of progress. You
have, after all, as we are constantly reminded on Discovery ChannelтАЩs тАЬSenility Week,тАЭ seen so much in
your century of life. From the invention of steam, to the first manned landing on the moon; from the
discovery of electricity to the absolutely necessary invention of the first electronic mail porn-spam filter,
your generation has endured a greater whirlwind of technological advancement than any other in the last
millennium. In participating in this latest cinematic degradation, were you finally fulfilling a dream that
came upon you when you beheld your first тАЬmoving picture showтАЭ? Hm. So, what youтАЩre saying is, by
using technology against itself, you were reliving the excited yet doom-laden memory of the first car to
make its way down that dusty lane, carrying the white-hatted developers who would cheat your father
out of his groves for a fraction of their worth and pave that rutted road with asphalt, and uproot every
fragrant dark glossy-leafed tree and cover the earth with (at last glance) townhomes and condominums?
Was this the only way left to you, to rage out against the expectations of a world that would like nothing
better than to forget you are lying there, unprotesting, abused by orderlies, in a stained and smelly county
bed, while the smell of grilling beef continually mocks your inability to chew it?

Even so. I find it unseemly. Those bronzed youths who seem to have accepted you for a time into their
fold (after cruelly rejecting the prudish plate of chocolate chip oatmeal cookies you offered them just
before Plot Point I), who are they after all but the tanned and sun-bleached heirs of those very same
orange-grove pillagers who drove your father to a drunkardтАЩs death, and sealed your own mother inside
the concrete pillar of a freeway offramp? Why would you want to insinuate yourself into their company?

AhтАжperhaps I do underestimate you. Perhaps there is something more on your mind. Perhaps that is not
oranges I smelled in your dank little room, but almonds. Very well, in hopes that your advanced age has
rendered you capable of slow and patient plotting, I will say no more, so as not to spoil your little game.
Heh heh. I hope IтАЩm right. Fight the power, MaтАЩam. For the serpent will not be bearded in its own den,
should it have one!