Something I wrote a few hours ago. I guess it goes here.


Satisfaction Guaranteed.


The idea of being cripple is frightening to say the least. A dim view of a life spent in paralysis, blind, deaf, mute, or some perverted cocktail of all of these. Yet, we fail to take into consideration the damnation of emotional paralysis. What a horror it must be to not feel. To be numb and cold on the inside like an empty room or forgotten attic.

What causes people to slip into such an apathy? Is it love or the lack of it? Is it life or misery or even happiness? Is it over-satisfaction that numbs the soul? Like the index finger of some seamstress, do we become hard and callus from too many pricks and prods? Maybe it's a lack of stimulation that leaves our lives feeling muted. Maybe this is why people lead double lives. Bank tellers in Ohio selling homemade meth out of their basements and having affairs not for the money or the pleasure, but just for that chance to live. We all grow up with the words Satisfaction Guaranteed written into our futures, only to find a dimly lit apartment and life we never saw coming.

That might be it, America has be sideswiped by some corporate semi. We all wanted to be super heroes and astronauts, and little by little, those dreams were whittled away until we have one choice; the life we live now.

Then Charlie steps out of a cab one day and walks to his front door and opens it to realize that this isn't what he wanted. Dear god, he thinks. This is not my life. I'm supposed to be a fireman. I wanted to live in the country, in some small town up north.

So Charlie panics and thinks, and maybe he drinks. So what if he does, who are we to judge? After all, who doesn't have a little bit of Charlie in him? We all want to escape, to just pack a bag and head for some ideal in our heads. Instead of doing that, Charlie starts showing up to work late, as if to try and show the world that he isn't satisfied. He yells at his boss, even quits. Or maybe he doesn't quit. Maybe he turns 4 and buys a corvette and has some old rock song as his cell phone ringtone. That way when people see Charlie in his nice suits and hear Freebird playing from his pocket, they'll see what could have been. Maybe everyone someone calls, it speaks to him, saying I remember who you really are, and they see it to. But they only see a glimpse.

A year later Charlie has an affair, not because he doesn't love his wife, but because not even Freebird and sports cars can fill the whole in him. America: Satisfaction Guaranteed.

We aren't astronauts or superheroes or fighter pilots and scuba divers. We're middle America. We're gears in a living machine and we do our job, but the whole time we feel as if we could be put to better use. Like we were designed for time machines, but we're being used to make digital clocks.

What of our fragile dreams and faded hopes? America, the land of opportunity, where have you gone? And who is this corporate behemoth you've left in your place?

I don't want to be a digital clock. It only takes one time machine to fix things.




America of mine,

Hear our need,

With your arms divine,

make Satisfaction Guaranteed.







-Glass