I thought that I had a better track record than most
dial-900-and-run-up-my-Visa psychics, but it seems that my predictions about
the year 2000 being the year of post New Wave are all wrong. You may recall
in issue number seven of the original Pulp, the kinder, gentler Norman
Rockwellesque rag of yesteryear when it was being more closely vetted to
remove disparaging comments made by Ash; but those halcyon days are behind
us and ...yes now I recall my original point, just a small case of 24 hour
BSE. Ate some lunatic bad cow on the weekend and the little prions are
refolding some of the very proteins I require for the high caliber brain
function that is my signature. Anyhow, as I was so eloquently saying, before
my brain guffawed is the fact that I, the Great Eeyore spoke of how the
Matrix represented the coming of the next retread culture. What am I talking
about? The seventies! That's right, we are reliving the most despicable time
in Earth's history. Look at the fashion, the music [fortunately synthesizers
are not de rigor otherwise I would have to rip out my inner ear in protest],
the sideburns [come on people - either it's a beard or it ain't],...oh no,
the prions are really screwing me up - I'm having an identity crisis. Must
not write like the Ash...me Eeyore.
So my prediction was the idea that we were repeating the exact culture cycle
of 20 years ago, and the Matrix was the trigger for the move away from the
70's into the 80's with the New Wave. But it did not come to pass. Why? [I
have to ask the question because my loyal reader won't.]
There is something foul in the state of our culture and it isn't television.
Somehow we have gotten stuck in a chrono-feedback loop. We are forever
destined to repeat the most horrid moments of the decade of hair spray and
discos [if anyone over the age of forty says that he was the first to say
disco sucks, take a look in the attic and I am sure you will find bell
bottom pants and a big horoscope necklace.] The trouble lies in the fact
that people did not watch the film that would have represented everything
that was wrong with the era and that movie was The Storm.
The seventies was a time of disaster movies. Planes, trains, earthquakes,
fires, apes taking over the damn planet. It was a hard time to be a movie
aficionado back then. The message was, everything in the universe wants to
eat, burn, smash, and shake you up. The disaster movies started multiplying
like mad cow infected rabbits, until even the crayon lobotomized populace
said: "Enough!" And that is when the seventies ended.
So the only way to end this feedback is for a large number of people to go
and watch The Storm and scream "I am mad as hell and I am not going to take
it anymore!" ; and then, just maybe we can break this thing. We need every
who in Whoville ASAP...
The future won't happen in these defective days...