A Laughing Trip
(An Adventure Through The Stereotypical Near Future)

CHAPTER ONE: Welcome

Welcome.
Cars move and people walk the streets of The City. There is no happiness. All are oppressed. Happiness died long ago. Who needs happiness anyways? This is the stereotypical near future. This is where all good is bad and all bad is good. You've seen the cinema do it a million times before. For example, A Clockwork Orange and Blade Runner showed you this dark fictitious future.
This isn't fiction.
Welcome.
Enjoy the darkness.
Enjoy the hatred.
Enjoy the sadness.
Enjoy the oppression.
I hear social decline is on the rise.
Picture a yellow car moving along a street. What street is it? I don't know. It doesn't matter. You're going to be walking down a street like this someday. You can see yourself now can't you? This is coming. This is it. Your future lies here. This is my car you're picturing. Are you following me in another car? Perhaps. Just let me continue. So picture this car making a slight turn. Picture your vision pulling up to see the entire metropolitan sprawl.
All of it is just radiant evil shining throughout. This is your future.
This is your town. Conglomerate headquarters or Stixville, it doesn't matter. This is it. This is the future. This is The City. It lives. It breathes. It whispers bad little secrets. It's everything you want and everything you don't. All for some pocket change and a bottle of tequila. Now picture in the center of this hellish nightmare a gigantic building, at least two kilometers high. Its surface is smooth, like the bottom of the baby just born from a mother sitting in a rat-infested alley; a needle sticking out of her last good vein.
The building is like that needle. Reflective.
They made the walls of mirror for a purpose. The walls reflect back the evil first cast out on The City, over and over again.
Until those walls are brought down, The City is forever oppressed.
So you want to picture what's inside.
That will have to wait. We have to picture our yellow car again.
Picture the car's lack of a license plate. It's common knowledge that missing a license plate can get you pulled over by The Law.
But what if there wasn't any law?
The City says hi.
Everyone that is someone lives in The City, or in any of the other corporate ant farms.
If you live Outside, you're an individual.
We can hope for better times. We can pray. But nothing happens without action.
Don't tell me that praying is an action. Last time I checked God isn't there or he's seriously pissed.
I say, "Let's get things going on our own. It's time to start a laughing trip of reverse propaganda. Reverse lies. It's time to end oppression."
This isn't an animal farm.
This is a city.
I said before, "It lives and breathes."
Picture that gigantic mirror in the center of this corporate nightmare sending out a beam of evil. It encompasses The City. The reflective walls see it, and cast it right back out, again, and again, and again.
Voila, you have it.
Now go with it.
As long as that monolithic mirror is there, it's not going to stop.
Has your hard-wired media-fed propaganda started to work yet? Are you saying, "This isn't going to happen. The future looks very bright. We've got a robust economy."
Fed by greed.
"We've got a good defense."
To annihilate the non-conformity.
"We've got all that other propaganda that my second grade teacher fed to me on a stick before she went to go snort a gram of coke to put up with us little brats."
Right.
"I'm sick of this guy," you say. "I'm sick of his shit. All he does is whine."
You'll be whining too when your kids are biting each other's arms to ease their thirst.
So how do I have a car if this place is so bad?
Now why is there no license plate?
I stole it.
You know, dog semen isn't black.
I learned that from the TV.
I'm sure your kids did too while you were to busy bitching and bickering with your spouse to pay some attention to what they were watching.
Picture the yellow car pulling into the parking lot of the mirror building.