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JIMMY WARNER DESIGN,
composed on the eve of 2010 moment
What do we call the the years 2010 to 2012?
What will happen to all the material about the Mayan calendar
Well, what happened to all that Y2K obsessive chicken-little mania?
Has anyone ever predicted anything that actually took place that
wasn't encrypted in deeply weird metaphor and Bible-speak
numerology? Lots of people besides marketers and merchandisers,
snake oil pitchmen and makeover product salesmen saw this coming.
It's like sitting down to new year's dinner, having chicken quarantine,
you know, enough herbs to mummify a plow horse, when your stomach
is still getting the willies in wild moonlight just thinking about the
Suddenly, we're one thrive-ass community of exo-planet hunters eager
to name and claim a new earth to colonize, exploit and destroy.
You can't shock and awe me anymore. Besides,
I'm not the one gambling wild horses in the jade bedchamber.
Headlines may be waiting to announce the final winter solstice
gajigawad energy bolt from mama Hera's squirtin boob galaxy
that turns earth into a gamma-ray rotisserie dish du jour. Ye gods.
Like Lawrence Ferlanghetti, I wished I could meet the naked nymph
playing the saxophone upraised but I learned that symbols rarely
reveal themselves naked or otherwise. But, it doesn't hurt to keep
eye out for them whether Nostradamus did or didn't write it down.
Welcome, to what I shall hereafter call, the TWIXTIES.
Twixt nine and
thirteen come the uncomfortable sci-fi numbers:
2010's Arthur C. Clarke monolithic star consciousness babe telling
where we can and can't go; 2011's well, you know all about 11,
number changed us forever and put us on emergency footing,
and 2012’s reminders of 1812's burning Whitehouse, 1912's Titanic,
but most of all another Y2K-like disaster that only causes a sigh
relief the day after it doesn't happen. The Mayans may have had
something else in mind, after all, the stars are often wrong.
Next, it's on to the Teensters, and the Oh Teens, no name comes
to mind, though we'll still be in the aughties right up until
Hypnotic music will find us 13 steppin’ to wishful teen year
to global renewal, now that there is still a globe to renew.
Go hippy-fying the world, putting low tech miracles to work on high
problems that no one ever thought possibly could be THAT easy.
No, doubt we'll branch into two societies, one sod busting, recycle
mania, off grid moneyless eco-warrior group and one genetic
tinkering, micro chip implanting, perfectionist head-tweezing group.
After a sloppy search engine command the 'tween teeners are either
about zit cream products or teen-porn. Maybe we're headed for the
twittering tweenies or the twixty-tweets. There will be more
following you than Russia's KGB in the sixties, Nazdrovia, here's to
up from twixt and between, real or imagined global mistakes.
Jimmy Warner Design, 2011
6 E Broad St.
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