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Advice for a Lost Generation By: Richard Davidson on 5/3/2002; 9:11 PM A single brick is the cornerstone of a large building. One tiny little ember can burn down a great forest. Nobody tunes my piano anymore. A wall is a singular structure, unless it is constructed in sections. I'm sure you know what I'm getting at here, and wouldn't you agree? A river carved out the Grand Canyon. "The Tonight Show" started as a joke. My lawyer still owes me money. Some people are afraid of bears, but not me. If I ever see a bear, I'm going to tell it to get stuffed. Meanwhile, one of those educational channels has an ongoing documentary about the construction of the St. Louis Arch, or whatever it's called. The Golden Arch? St. McLouis? I don't know, and I don't care, because they built that thing in about six or fifty weeks, and more people died than in all of the Heavyweight Title Bouts combined, but damn it, that thing got built, and you can't stop me. Now I think you see what I'm getting at. When I was young I had certain beliefs, and those beliefs were false, they were a lie, they were a joke, a laugh, a nightmare, a song and dance routine in Technicolor. I was smarter than any ten dumb guys put together, and a small cat. I was completely positive of a world view that was nonsensical, ignorant, ridiculous, funny, whatever. And then I grew up. Wow. What a manly thing to do. I grew up, and I learned what a silly twerp of a geek of a thoughtless buffoon of a monkey of a bad waiter's sister's cousin I really was. And for sixteen days I banged my head against the wall, setting loose over twenty seven distinctly unique personalities, that went on to form a company, go bankrupt, and hit it big in Vegas. They never sent me a check. But that's how it goes sometimes. We win some, but really it all comes back around again. And none of that mattered. I was a wise, all knowing, completely realistic and practical grownup, who could even bathe without a rubber duck. It was fun being a grownup. OK, that's a lie. It was that one word, you know, that little phrase, whatever it is that's the opposite of fun... What was it....? Mmmmmm.... Oh yeah, it was a DRAG! It was, like a major bummer, dude. My groovy vibe had gone stagnant, and even the ugly girls wouldn't dance with me any more. I had it all wrong, and wronger, and even wrongest, which is pretty hard to spell in Swahili. And then it hit me. The children are right, man, and you responsible people have let the doors of reality slam shut in your miserable, insipid, overbloviated faces. Look THAT one up, chump! So for three and a half chapters, I have led you on, teased you, kept your back against the wall and your chicken to the griddle, only to end by killing the main character. The End. Just kidding, the thing is, and it really is too, is that we go through a minute, indescribably optomistic phase in our lives when we believe ONE person can change the world. Then we realize how finite and controlled our world really is. But that's where we screw up bigtime, people. The Universe is INFINITE! Do you KNOW this concept, INFINITE? It's like if you had a billion zillion quadrillion jelly beans, and I gave you a billion zillion quadrillion loballilian more, you still wouldn't be any closer to having an INFINITE quantity of jelly beans. So, basically, you'd be screwed. Many people have worked hard for eons of centuries to put our collective existance into a little box. It's a comfortable little box, and it's made of the finest Teak and Kaopectate, but it's still a box. It's full of an ordered little society, where everything either makes sense, or we kill it. Well, not me, pal. Fool me seventy nine times, shame on you; fool me eight thousand six hundred and forty two times, shame on ME! I'm one guy. And I've decided right here, right now, that I am going to change the world. I know I can do this very simple thing, and I can do it every day for the rest of my life. And when I get done, no one will make me a king, and no one will make me a chocolate cake, and no one will yodel on my doorstep, or coat my Lillies with glycerine. Which is fine, because Lillies don't like that, and neither do Protestants. Do you like the world EXACTLY HOW IT IS? Every house is painted the color you like, every road, every sign, every office building, every cup of Jello is EXACTLY where you want it to be? I doubt it, and although I'm joking about this, and playing you, the reader, for a fool, I am DEAD SERIOUS. And remember: Hate people who aren't like you, and leave a lot of garbage everywhere.
RE: Advice for a Lost Generation By: Evan on 5/8/2002; 10:12 AM Ouch, I almost fell out of my chair laughing while reading this. Hmmmm, I feel like I should say something else about this wonderful piece but I'm not sure what to say.
RE: Advice for a Lost Generation By: Vlad Vostok on 9/11/2003; 7:20 AM Im not lost,my suicidal rage has found its home,thanks anyway
RE: Advice for a Lost Generation By: R.A.B. on 9/11/2003; 8:31 AM Hahaha it was totally hilarious and at the same time made real sense! Richard Davidson you really are the master of psycho-hilarious-tongue twisting-I don't know what I'm talking about yet it makes sense writing. I give you my long time rubber ducky bath companion for that.
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