Long, Tough Week

Kirstie Alley's 04 made for television saga about the Gecks of New Hampshire only receives a two star rating, but it certainly provides me with a ravenous window into the truth about the undertow in American life we don't really talk about. As Shelley Long's replacement on Cheers, Alley was "eh". There was a chemistry between Danson and Long which worked, the intangible quality of pheromones and comedy. Alley represented a shift in direction, conglomerate models swallowing up independent entrepreneurship, but she was a second fiddle, which summarizes her career, if it is not otherwise indicative of the fact that the character she portrays would have used urine as a cleaning agent if she could have turned it to her advantage. On a purely superficial level, Alley deserves credit for showing us ourselves as we are, obese and brutish beneath the surface, her figure gone, her Geck is representative of what we've become, and how we've metastasized government programs. Would the dowager have seen the face of the Matrix Research *consumer* in the real Brenda? Probably not. The majority cases of shrink wrap on my plate screwed up their heads into dysfunctional dependence, or, in my worst cases, ones where I did not even know why I broached the disability work incentives, they weren't lucid, but this woman wasn't insane the way the players in the film, or the Rotten Tomatoes commentators use it to ward off the most abhorrent aspects of broken primate behavior. She was highly organized, knew how to exploit the weak, manipulate children for profit, a world that became mine the minute I left my father's house, no picnic there, not with my mother (and since I'm conscious of the fact my surviving brother has a substantive footprint, I'll curb that bite). What the Gecks represent is squarely and solely the fault of progressive liberalism, no more, no less, and for once, I did not waste my time viewing and appreciating a mediocre portrayal which tells the truth about the downfall of western values, the loss of constraint, the sleaze in gaming the welfare state. 

I might as well be an impoverished 22 year old graduate living off of boiled pasta rolling up and back North Broad Street as I now roll up and back Market. I try to keep busy, scrounging up what paying markets I can. When I graduated high school, my parents had located a building in Woodlyn with my peers, and I have no reason in my obstinate skull why I turned my parents down, said "no," if we can add this to the poor choice department. I have searched for the building since, never found it, but had I gone there, even if Liberty had been discovered, plausibly, and fucked me over, as it did, the consequences would have been different. I really can't say what was going on in my 19 year old head at the time, but I'm bitter. My only asset is my debt, which is so astronomical as to be nearly pointless. I don't see how I recover, and feel, legitimately, if independent living center corruption had such a disparate impact on my welfare, since that corruption flourishes under federal mandate, the DOE should shave off some of my interest. I'd imagine the executive branch would fall over itself with that line of reasoning.

The Greek title, paralepomenia, means "things omitted," the church fathers on 1Chronicles.