ephlis01 SUMMER/FALL 2001 (THE LOST ISSUE): Part 2
Page 3: The introduction entitled, STAR WARS (Denmark font, landscape orientation, with crude box art depiction of skyline along right margin, allowing reader to turn the page 90 degrees clockwise and imagine the following words falling on the building of the city. Remember, these words were written March 27, 2001, months before the events of September 11th and nearly two years to the invasion of Iraq):
Do you remember how easy it was to punch each other when we were kids?
When the repercussions associated with impulsive acts of violence never entered our unconditioned minds?
No reservations. Pure action. Let the punches fly.
Sometimes the impact of a closed fist was rooted more in affection than hostility.
But motivations were secondary to the act itself.
It felt good.
Those were carefree days, weren’t they?
Isn’t that what America is supposed to be all about?
Isn’t that what you want?
Tell me you want it.
Do you want to be protected?
Protected from hostility.
Protected from randomness.
Protected from madmen who possess weapon of mass destruction.
What if Robert Downey Jr. obtained a nuclear weapon?
Is there any doubt he would use it to buy more drugs?
Bartering with a Colombian drug lord for a few more bags of blow, jeopardizing everyone’s security in a futile attempt to chase that long lost elusive first high.
That would be a shame wouldn’t it?
Our shortsighted stinginess would contribute to the destruction of the greatest actor of our generation.
How very sad.
Star Wars.
No Luke Skywalker Obie-Wan Kenobi bullshit.
A straight up Pentagon directed remake courtesy of the smartest man on the planet, George W. Bush.
We need a nuclear shield.
Critics will protest calling a missile defense system unattainable.
Tell that to young Harry Houdini locked in a trunk and submerged in his parent’s bathtub filled with water.
Peeking through the doorway as the water splashed hard against the tile floor, there were many evenings Mrs. Houdini thought about ringing her fucked up son’s neck but she didn’t. She understood you have to start somewhere.
Let us begin anew...
