Combo No.1

I am sitting down with my friends tonight. They are in the box and they are from the seventies. I feel like I am taking my brain out of my head and putting it in a blender. It's liquid. And I like it. They sit in their basement and talk about nothing. Talk about getting laid, and making money. About nothing really. Nothing has any real content. I've been wacthing it for three hours. It's a Seventies Show marathon. And I'm still running. Not finished yet. Making good time. Haven't hit the wall.

Another episode is starting. They are my friends tonight. I must watch. They could be my friends forever. I could buy the DVD collection soon. Watch them on my death bed. Decorate my house like the show. Raise my kid the same way. Talk about nothing but the show. My friends could assume Seventies show identities and we could go to the Seventies Show Convention. We would all love Kelso. We would wonder how he got such high cheek bones? We would wonder why Mr. Foreman was such an asshole while his kids are smoking pot in his basement. We would think about Point Place. How cold does it get there in the winter?

What was that decade like as a young adult? I could remember watching Star Wars when I was a rug rat. How it was sold out and I had to sit in the isle. Remember the white copy rolling across the screen and the stars behind. Remember Elvis dying and how our mother's cried. Remember the Space Shuttle falling out of the sky and how we all had jokes about it the next day. Remember how we all were just a little more naive back then.

Remember how good it felt to not worry that much about your government's choices. About where the next meal was going to come from. About where your next billable hour was going to come from. Remember? That wasn't heaven. It doesn't even come close to my own personal definition of it. But it was much better than this extreme awareness that we are all trying to practice. Who are you to have a valid opinion? Your opinions have been programmed. Your opinions have been brought to you by a local advertising agency who sit in their war rooms forcing fried chicken down your hungry impatient throats at a new low low price.