slip-ons, in February. Why not? It is a controlled environment here at the mall. The temperature is our bitch, bitch.
And the moms, overloaded with shopping bags and babies and other burdens. Despite their armloads of crap, they buy still more crap: Bed, Bath & Beyond crap. Crate & Barrel crap. Pottery Barn crap. Then aquick stop at Starbucks, or Ben & Jerryâs for a shot of sugar to keep them going (buying).
Dads, too, sometimes appear at the mall, though they always look a little lost, surrounded by non-environment-destroying knickknacks. Maybe thereâs something useful for Dad down at Sears. There must be some sort of gas-powered machinery there. Maybe something to poison the lawn. Or amputate tree limbs. Or exterminate mice and other small animals who dare to co-exist in our living spaces.
People do what they are programmed to do. People are button-pushing robots.
Their alarm clocks wake them up. They push a button to shut them off. They go into their bathrooms and crap and piss. They push a button to eliminate their waste. They enter their kitchens groggy and hungry. They push buttons and food and caffeine products appear.
They enter their garage areas and insert themselves into their vehicles. They push buttons to adjust the interior climate, the comfort level of their seats, the angle of the steering wheel. Then they start the car and push a button to open the garage door. On the street, they push a button on their GPS unit and it tells them where to go. Take the next left.
At the mall they push a button and enter the automated parking garage. There they leave their vehicles and, if they are unlucky, HAVE TO EXPOSE THEMSELVES TO NATURE FOR A FEW SECONDS, until they are safelyinside Nordstrom. They proceed, quickly pushing buttons on their communication devices and attaching them to the sides of their faces so they can communicate with other button-pushing robots.
The button-pushing robots then proceed through the oxygen-enriched air, which refuels them and primes them for their primary purpose: buying useless crap. They proceed fully loaded with credit cards, debit cards, Mileage-Plus cards. They go into the stores. They evaluate the selections. What shall they buy today? Useless gadgets? Ugly shirts? Something made of plastic? They move silently across the polished marble floors. They shuffle. They consume. They touch base. Then they return to their vehicles.
You think Iâm kidding, donât you? You think Iâm joking. People arenât robots. Itâs just a little riff Iâm doing. Having a little fun. WELL, GO TO THE MALL AND LOOK AT THE PEOPLE. LOOK AT THEIR FACES AND TELL ME THEY HAVE REAL THOUGHTS. TELL ME THEY KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD AND THEY ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING SOMETHING THEY WERE NOT TOLD TO THINK BY THEIR TVS OR THEIR COMPUTERS OR THE COMMUNICATION DEVICES STUCK TO THE SIDES OF THEIR FACES. PEOPLE REALLY ARE ROBOTS. THEY REALLY ARE. I DONâT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS. THEY ARE.
THE END
[not handed in]
February 17 (continued)
So Iâm hiding among the Elton John CDs, in the Art and Music Room, and when I look up, there she is. Sadie. Sheâs spotted me.
SADIE: James! Oh my God! Is that you?
ME: Uhâ¦
SADIE: What are you doing here?
ME: ââ
SADIE: I didnât know you still came to the library.
ME: Uh, yeahâ¦sometimesâ¦
SADIE: What are you looking at? CDs? They got anything good?
ME: Not really.
SADIE ( looking around at the Art and Music Room ): I never come in here. Itâs nice.
ME: ââ
SADIE: Itâs so weird I ran into you. What are you doing these days?
ME: Not too much.
SADIE: I always mean to say hi at school. I justâ¦it feels awkwardâ¦and Will always got a little weird about it.
ME: Yeah? Why?
SADIE: I donât know. He got jealous sometimes. And he hates it if I mention you. I figured it would be best toâ¦you knowâ¦
ME: Never talk to me again?
SADIE: No. Not at all. But you
And the moms, overloaded with shopping bags and babies and other burdens. Despite their armloads of crap, they buy still more crap: Bed, Bath & Beyond crap. Crate & Barrel crap. Pottery Barn crap. Then aquick stop at Starbucks, or Ben & Jerryâs for a shot of sugar to keep them going (buying).
Dads, too, sometimes appear at the mall, though they always look a little lost, surrounded by non-environment-destroying knickknacks. Maybe thereâs something useful for Dad down at Sears. There must be some sort of gas-powered machinery there. Maybe something to poison the lawn. Or amputate tree limbs. Or exterminate mice and other small animals who dare to co-exist in our living spaces.
People do what they are programmed to do. People are button-pushing robots.
Their alarm clocks wake them up. They push a button to shut them off. They go into their bathrooms and crap and piss. They push a button to eliminate their waste. They enter their kitchens groggy and hungry. They push buttons and food and caffeine products appear.
They enter their garage areas and insert themselves into their vehicles. They push buttons to adjust the interior climate, the comfort level of their seats, the angle of the steering wheel. Then they start the car and push a button to open the garage door. On the street, they push a button on their GPS unit and it tells them where to go. Take the next left.
At the mall they push a button and enter the automated parking garage. There they leave their vehicles and, if they are unlucky, HAVE TO EXPOSE THEMSELVES TO NATURE FOR A FEW SECONDS, until they are safelyinside Nordstrom. They proceed, quickly pushing buttons on their communication devices and attaching them to the sides of their faces so they can communicate with other button-pushing robots.
The button-pushing robots then proceed through the oxygen-enriched air, which refuels them and primes them for their primary purpose: buying useless crap. They proceed fully loaded with credit cards, debit cards, Mileage-Plus cards. They go into the stores. They evaluate the selections. What shall they buy today? Useless gadgets? Ugly shirts? Something made of plastic? They move silently across the polished marble floors. They shuffle. They consume. They touch base. Then they return to their vehicles.
You think Iâm kidding, donât you? You think Iâm joking. People arenât robots. Itâs just a little riff Iâm doing. Having a little fun. WELL, GO TO THE MALL AND LOOK AT THE PEOPLE. LOOK AT THEIR FACES AND TELL ME THEY HAVE REAL THOUGHTS. TELL ME THEY KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING TO THE WORLD AND THEY ARE CAPABLE OF THINKING SOMETHING THEY WERE NOT TOLD TO THINK BY THEIR TVS OR THEIR COMPUTERS OR THE COMMUNICATION DEVICES STUCK TO THE SIDES OF THEIR FACES. PEOPLE REALLY ARE ROBOTS. THEY REALLY ARE. I DONâT CARE WHAT ANYONE SAYS. THEY ARE.
THE END
[not handed in]
February 17 (continued)
So Iâm hiding among the Elton John CDs, in the Art and Music Room, and when I look up, there she is. Sadie. Sheâs spotted me.
SADIE: James! Oh my God! Is that you?
ME: Uhâ¦
SADIE: What are you doing here?
ME: ââ
SADIE: I didnât know you still came to the library.
ME: Uh, yeahâ¦sometimesâ¦
SADIE: What are you looking at? CDs? They got anything good?
ME: Not really.
SADIE ( looking around at the Art and Music Room ): I never come in here. Itâs nice.
ME: ââ
SADIE: Itâs so weird I ran into you. What are you doing these days?
ME: Not too much.
SADIE: I always mean to say hi at school. I justâ¦it feels awkwardâ¦and Will always got a little weird about it.
ME: Yeah? Why?
SADIE: I donât know. He got jealous sometimes. And he hates it if I mention you. I figured it would be best toâ¦you knowâ¦
ME: Never talk to me again?
SADIE: No. Not at all. But you
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