I Comic

America (The United States of) is such a wonderful place in so very many ways. It has so many wonderful natural resources, so much richness and density, so many different layers. The rich are rich. They have the absolute best technology. And yet, everywhere I go, such stupidity and insanity, such absolute disregard for self and for the future, such absolute disregard for others and such willful ignorance that it is enough to make me weep in despair.

I love you Americans and yet everywhere I go in Los Angeles there are 4 constants: Tattoo parlors, psychic life coaches, dog grooming salons and iPhone/iPad repair places. The tattoo places and dog grooming salons provide services for people. The psychic life coaches are, I presume, a necessity of life, somehow, as there are so many of them and they seem to make a living. What really gets me is the iPhone repair places.

The cell phone is a basic need in LA. It is the umbilical cord, the key, the way that people keep in touch. If you don't have a cell phone you may as well be dead in Los Angeles because you will be spending at least 50 percent of your time in meetings, commuting, doing chores or being away and the cell phone is the only way that people will be able to keep in touch. And yet, with the need for reliable technology most "hip" Americans trust a semi-reliable, extremely fragile, piece of mostly plastic which seems to break at harsh look. They spend 90% of their time either showing off that they have the latest one (they call this "using an app") or complaining that theirs is garbage or lusting after one.

Are there other phones that do as good a job? Is there something unique about this technology? If it's so good, why do so many shops offer "iPhone and iPad repair"? Are Americans really that clumsy? Or ignorant? Yes, No, Americans ARE that clumsy.

I am not denigrating America. I love sitting outside in the, now, 39 degree Autumn and I love the fact that there is so much plenty. It's just that American clumsiness depresses after a while. It becomes heavy, like the St. Bernard that thinks he's a toy poodle. It's nice that you're friendly America. And yes, you are loving and caring and loyal and you will protect my house but you chewed up my slippers and destroyed my couch. And when I point these facts out America, you get snippy and surly. We know you didn't mean to dig up the Rose bushes, America, and your intention was positive. We know you didn't mean to poop on the sidewalk in front of our house but there's nobody to scoop what you pooped. And we know you meant well. We do. But America, the world has leash laws and there's nobody to take you for a walk.

Despite all this, in fact partly because of it, I love you America. I'm living in you, with you.

I see the rich, the wealthy, the powerful. The absolute riches here are incredible. I see what your corporations are doing to the citizens. It's like watching a girl who cuts herself, who puts out cigarettes on her arm, the whore who loves her pimps and knows he loves her because he hits her. America, you don't need the Koch brothers to pimp you. You are worthy of being loved.

It's not that you're not pretty America. Some parts of you are downright beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. It's just that you have let parts of yourself go. The Appalachians. The Love Canal. The Los Angeles Freeway System. Gross.

Is it too late for an intervention?

(To Be Continued)
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