Saturday, January 9, 2016

I walk the wall, until I fall

It was heartening to hear the revered Donald Trump propound his full length Mexican wall proposal.
1954 miles, 12 million 555 thousand cubic yards of concrete, 5 billion pounds of rebar, and all the sexy aspects of large-scale engineering projects: surveying, land acquisition, environmental review, geological studies, archaeological sites uncovered, maintenance, excavating for foundations and so on; the roads to haul the concrete or preformed sections, food and housing and medical care for the workers. And all this material and labour supplied by Mexico no doubt. It might just work, such a boost to the Mexican economy, why sell drugs? They'd all go home on their own. And all the nations willing to pay for the learned technology, North Korea, Israel, middle eastern nations, Europe, Ukraine? Walls everywhere. The genius of it all.

The clocks are working hard this new year to pull time along. 2015 was such an adventurous year for humanity. The power trips of want to be world movers, scheming, lying, thriving on divisiveness. We heard our clocks talking late one night. They said they needed a battery change every month to be able to pull civilization forward. They said the world was so bogged down in misrepresentation it was like being mired in a vast steamy tavern. Oh but for smart clocks, all connected by the ethereal net, the computational abilities of billions of consanguineous clocks world wide, in every home, office, in every high place and every low place, on everyone's wrist world wide. They'd keep track of every nuance humanity flirted with, able to speed up and slow down and stop or even backtrack, keeping our foolishness to a mere ripple in the cosmos. Listening to our clocks that night, they had a real empathy for their makers.

We like Christmas. 'Tis the season to be jolly. Our puerility can go somewhat unnoticed. Ever since we were kids our personas have not been able to appreciate the earnestness of the human predicament. Our words are but symbols, representing to the best of language's ability an expression of our befuddlement. As if a spot of religion or a dash of politics can circumvent hunger and death. Stars implode, and we lavish in our humanity. Walls will come and walls will go. The three little pigs had a go at it, the big bad wolf just didn't have technology. Some Mexican dude named Carlos the Hun will gather all the left handed Mexican insurgents together and they will walk outside that wall for seven days and seven nights never uttering a sound, and then they will let out one mighty shout and the wall will fall. And Carlos the Hun will climb a little red rope dropped from above by a sweet black haired fling to save her from prison's torment and they will live happily ever after.

It needs a good foot path on top, that wall. Imagine the rich Chinese tourists it would draw. From Tijuana to Brownsville, fancy five star hotels enticing weary sojourners into the luxurious spas and foot baths. Bumper stickers all over America, “I walked The Wall.” Donald Trump will be a multi-trillionare, conflict of interest hinging on political correctness. Can a nation build such a wonder of the world in a four year term? We thinks perhaps the wonderment of reality tv has carried away the soul of more than just the odd couch potato. “We didn't realize he was going to be the actual president” they lamented, “We thought this was a new tv episode.” Psyched everyone out, he did. Fox News too.

Our plans are being laid, up here in Canada. They obviously won't relish our legally crossing the 49th parallel after reading this hogwash so we'll pick a dark and stormy night and sneak across on the mighty River Red in our little canoe, into the mighty Mississippi water shed, and Huck Finn style raft our way down the murky currents to the Gulf of Mexico and sneak along the coast in the dark of night to walk that wall from Brownsville to wet our whistle in the steamy taverns of Tijuana. The epic journey of a life time, thank you reality tv.
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