The gas tank read empty, but I thought I might make it. The car was sluggish and uncooperative. I loved my car, but I was clearly in a what-have-you-done-for-me-lately mood. Bloody hell, it was like driving a dinosaur. I drove a little longer before I noticed the parking brake was on.
The streets were full of billboards with the face of a dead actor selling shoes. What agreements are these corporations making with the dead? What psychic are they using to make these necromantic deals? Is that what people want? Shoes of the dead? Why is this appealing to me? It reminded me of that tour of the crypts under the St. Michael’s Church in Vienna. A coffi
n from years ago had been broken open and the corpse had on wedges. I had no idea that style of shoe had been around so long.
The aftershock, phase 2 of our recession was in full swing. Yet every turn I made, I saw old buildings being torn down and new buildings being built. The deck seemed stacked. Someone is getting rich as the majority take the hit. If this were another country, the people would be in the streets with pitchforks and hoes (hoes for gardening, just to be clear). There should be a big hunt that ends with a barbecue. But who would hunt the elite we admire and strive to be?
There might be a few: https://occupywallst.org/
Leaving Stress Behind 