It's A Madhouse

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I am a junkie: a certifiable, hopelessly addicted junkie. CNN, ABC, and Fox, are my daily dose; shot directly into my visual cortex at the speed of light. Talk radio methadone holds me over at work, in my car until I can return home for my daily dose of radiation laden, digitized for my protection, primetime headline news.

These sights and sounds aren’t just beamed to me but to the planet and beyond. Traveling at the speed at the speed of sound and light, the news is hurtling its way towards distant stars and planets, and perhaps, just maybe, distant people.

At first they will receive a trickle of Campbell’s Soup Playhouse, FDR’s fire side chats, “there is nothing to fear but fear its self,” then atom bombs and Elvis. Gradually speeding up until a flood of images and sounds of our media laden world ravage and infest their airwaves plague-like, choking out everything until only our images exist.

Years of bombardment with our cosmic U.H.F, V.H.F. junk; will drive them to the brink of madness. They will know absolutely nothing -- nothing about us except for what our media tells them.

Someday these distant people from somewhere may seek us out in hopes of finding the meaning behind our media; the method to our madness.   Perhaps, when they arrive they will they will find Charlton Hesston running through the streets screaming “It’s people! It’s people!” Or maybe these people from somewhere will find the statue of Liberty buried up to her armpits in radioactive sand. Or maybe they won’t come at all and simply bulldoze our planet to make a hyperspace freeway.

Or maybe, just maybe, they’ll turn our T.V. off.