The Big Picture

Being forced to leave planet Earth just after the new millennium rolled around was sort of a mixed blessing for me. True, I no longer had my cushy service-industry job, where I could smart off to customers all day long on the phone and via e-mail without affecting the size of our customer database, whatsoever. And, of course, I no longer had the use of my comfortable recliner. No, it wasn’t a goddamn La-Z-Boy.

I didn't have my cable TV and VCR anymore, either. That’s right, I didn’t opt for the satellite feed to a big-ass, high-end home theater and TIVO deal because I liked paying less for the same shitty channels instead of being one of those sorry saps who gladly gave up half his monthly income to channel surf nonstop because all TV programming was the same. Nothing but belly buttons and butt cracks, crude humor, bed-hopping, tear-jerker family shows, sci-fi that is actually horror and fantasy, reality crap and 80% commercials. Did I miss anything?

I also didn’t miss having my sorry life controlled by subliminal advertising, ULF low-frequency mind-control beams the Air Force soaked us with day in and day out, or having to drag the garbage cans out to the curb in the rain, snow and freezing weather just because it was Wednesday.

But, no longer being able to call Earth my home also allowed me to see the forest for the trees, if you will. I now see planet Earth from a distance and that allows me to see it for what it really is instead of being unable to rise above the daily routine of eating, sleeping, pooping, praying, commuting and making whoopee long enough to actually get The Big Picture.

All right, all right, I know I’m rattling on and that’s because I’m still a little rattled about not having my cushy service industry job, my non-La-Z-Boy recliner and TV that wasn't worth watching, because all that crap was still a hell of a lot better than choking on Martian dust and looking over your shoulder for rogue Grays and marauding Reptilians all day long. So, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, OK, Smart Guy, and just what is the goddamn Big Picture?

Alright, so I’ll tell you, already. It’s pretty goddamn simple, actually.

The whole, big-ass, stupid, secret deal about planet Earth is that you’re all down there and you can’t leave except when you die (or get abducted and dumped somewhere else by aliens) and, in the meantime, the powers-that-be have got you all by the short hairs.

And, knowing that, you still look forward to your next drive-thru meal, American Idol and getting lucky on the weekends.

Why do I bother?

Editor's Note 4-6-13: No, none of the Fred Fortune posts are autobiographical tales about Michael Casher. Michael Casher was never a homeless bum from L.A. He was never a CSR who "hung up" on customers. He never stole a thing in his life and he was never employed by any kind of store. Fred Fortune is a fictitious character with a fictitious name and his life and times are fictional. For more information, read the sidebar texts. Thank you.

Just Like A Broken Record

I just hate it when people tell me I sound like a broken record. They do that because they don’t want to hear the truth. Especially if it hits home for them. Man, how people will do anything to filter out the shit before it hits them.

Just like one day about a year ago (before I was snatched and then dumped by the Grays), I was telling this guy about how Earth is going to hell in a hand basket and this shithead starts squirming on his bar stool and looking the other way. But he didn’t move to another stool. Hell, no, I was buying the rounds, that’s why. The sneaky shit.

Anyway, I told him any asshole could tell the country was going to hell in a hand basket, if not the whole goddamn planet, just by going to the movies these days. Nothing but belly buttons and butt cracks and four-letter words. And everything in tones of gray and blue and black, like color is a bad thing nowadays. And when I mentioned that, the prick just squirmed and squirmed.

Then I busted his chops about TV and told him they shouldn’t be saying words like “asshole” and “dick” and “prick” and "bitch" and “knocked-up” on TV, especially not at prime time, for heaven’s sake. Kids are watching. Doesn’t anybody care about them anymore? That made him squirm even more on his stool, so much that he actually farted and then pretended that he didn’t. That’s when I moved down to the other end of the bar. Then I realized that was his way of getting rid of me. I guess he didn’t want another free shot and a beer all that bad.

Later I heard him saying to another guy (who was also paying for all the drinks) that I sounded like a broken record. That pissed me off. Pissed me right off. I thought about slugging the both of them but they were a lot bigger than me and in better shape. They haven’t been outcasts as long as I have and they even had homes. They probably have big-ass wide-screen TVs and just love prime time. They probably even love those sappy commercials that sell you pills for everything but boils on your ass. They probably go to the movies all the time. So, I just let it go.

Man, being right don’t mean shit these days.