In a land of imaginary solutions, we are surrounded by definite maybes, forever whelmed but not overly so. Where cock/tail joints have never-ending open mics filled with spirited short stories and flash fictions. Where dead ends flirt with sacrilege and give birth to obtuse cul-de-sacs. Where windows and mirrors have the same function. Where many smugly believe faith is fact and fact is lie yet fail to grasp the mathematical equivalent that faith is a lie.
In a nation of murmuration there is a constant; death trap and hated part remain an anagram. Where the airwaves crackle cacophonous mumble grumble smears in unceasing, unyielding attack, then sits back to sneer at stumbles. Where truth spoken is a dirty word needing mind and mouth washed out with dope.
In a country dumbed-down, willful ignorance is a virtue; seeking knowledge is pretention.
In a territory so screwed up, down, and sideways where, “Goodbye” doesn’t cut it, how about, “Get lost?” If already lost then, “Get found!”
