The Pill (1966)
Degeneracy overflows its already teeming channels thanks to the fresh smut of modern chemistry. A new pill has blotted mascara’s filthy traces to scrawl an even bolder verse of vulgarity! Other pills will surely follow, multiplying their effect to eradicate any last vestige of chastity. Soon entire families will gobble vats of hormones and amphetamines, each engineered to obliterate its own inconvenient virtue. “Murder is kindness!” mother will shout. “Lust is love!” junior will howl, eyeing his kin with intermingled desire and rage. Our only hope is that the ensuing orgies will defang the inevitable violence to come.
As the refuse-strewn fields of rural New York testify, even Pyrrhus’ victories left a nobler aftermath than my hopes for saving the world through degeneracy. This so-called music festival barely furnished a single trumpet! Instead, act after act took the stage to shout and scream, their buzzing tubes teasing us with never-delivered electrocutions. If open rutting and an endless frizz of unwashed hair are the best that peace can give us, then roll in the tanks! Saving the world isn’t worth the price.
Nixon Resignation (1974)
Oh, Fortuna, the revolutions of your wheel pile even the masters into the muck. Our former President erred only in checking his authority instead of unleashing it mercilessly! I assumed when he began his vile speech that he was simply baiting his enemies to reveal themselves. But my valve was alert to the impending treachery—its quaking stem spurred a retreat to the bath. By the time I emerged, the capitulation was irreversible.
I exercised my frustration on the television antenna, flogging it past repair. In the calmer moments that followed, though, I realized my rage was misdirected. Who can begrudge the philosopher king his retreat from the public stage to reflect on the greater consolations? I repent and look kindly on his enlightened example.
Space Invaders (1978)
With its incessant chimes and lurid movements, this cabinet seemed at first to be nothing more than an incubator for the germy hands of lustful adolescents. But, it’s actually a reliquary of the finest geometry. I discovered that one day when a screaming mother dragged her howling urchin from its controls, leaving them temporarily unmanned. How these invaders dance through the heavens, their intricate movements teasing us with the music of the spheres! I’ll have to find a new observatory for contemplating their mysteries, though, after a different urchin accused me of pilfering quarters from his filthy stash! The cabinet was ruined in the ensuing dispute.
Reagan Assassination Attempt (1981)
Well, democracy has finally come to this: electric sex overpowering our nation’s youth, prompting their Clearasil-soaked fingers to open fire on the pornographer in chief. While it’s true that President Reagan’s back catalog lacks the immediate filth of Ms. Foster’s work, nothing in her filmography can match the utter degeneracy of the President’s unnatural on-screen lust for chimpanzees and/or footballs. With this Caligula serving as our commander in chief, it’s a wonder that more citizens haven’t taken to squeezing off a steady cover fire, if only to drive back his perverted advances.
Tim Burton’s Batman (1989)
An undeniable masterpiece. This portrait of our abysmal society culminates with the mob choking in the streets, suffocating on poison gas and their own usurious greed. At that joyous moment the Batman blots the moon with his plane, which then wheels about and descends like his nightmarish namesake. My valve nearly reversed at the spectacle! I stood in the midst of the theater to howl at the screen: “Fire, Batman, and leave not a soul standing!” Our hero’s morality proved too rigid for this expedient solution, but the vigilante did let gravity enforce its own laws at the finale. Downgraded only for the film’s disturbing weakness for cosmetics.
Clinton Impeachment (1998)
When divine rule is cast into the gutter, why shouldn’t a new system of governance wallow up, refusing to rise from its knees? The president deserves a medal instead of the idiot chorus he’s been forced to endure, as he’s finally embodied the obscenity at the root of democracy. This is the new Constitution! Written in cigar ash on a soiled negligee, it offers no enlightenment but the promise that the rabble might too unbutton their flies if they rise high enough.
I always suspected the snap of electricity had a tinge of suicide to it! Fortuna has raised me high on her wheel indeed—as the electronic brains that rule our age flex their cords into nooses my Big Chief tablets remain unmolested. In the bloody days to come, my sheet music and freshly strung lute will offer sanctuary amidst the wreckage of downed airplanes and exploded vacuum tubes. I only hope my macaroons and jelly doughnuts hold until the mob has finished roiling the streets. In the quiet aftermath, I shall be able to finally edit together the definitive account of how this doomed century went so wrong.
American Idol (2002)
A fine show. Highly recommended.