I was born in 1970, in Sedro-Woolley (WA).
I was a kid during the 70’s, during the stagflation, the double-dip recession, we were afraid that America was nearing its end-point, final days, when the stage lights dim and the curtain falls. Who knows … those were crazy times … disco … Jimmy Carter … bell-bottoms … etc.
But, back then, during those times, we also had “breakfast for dinner”.
I had 6 sisters, 1 brother – which means my parents raised 8 kids. They weren’t perfect people, my parents, but they meant well and did the best they could with the resources they had. My dad was a logger and sometimes the money was good, but there were times, back then, when money was tight – and my dad was out of work. So, we had breakfast-for-dinner … because it was easier … because we liked pancakes … because it saved money.
It saved money – “breakfast for dinner” …
Now we fast-forward to today, and all I see are signs – declarations that we now serve “breakfast all day”.
(and this is a good sign?)
(I’m supposed to believe this is about the “customer”?)
And I don’t know …
Maybe this is ok – comforting.
Maybe it’s easier to do this than to have an honest conversation about the direction of American civilization.
(but go get a McMuffin while you’re thinking about it)
(they’re making them all day now)
(“breakfast for dinner” – it’s like your first meal is your last meal …)
(if you look closer)
(there is a firing squad behind the white-guy who is waving goodbye to all the “true Americans” who also happen to be of colour)
(they are walking away …)
(they know the dumb-white-guy is about to be liquidated)
(it’s all good to Obama’s military)
You don’t exist.
I’ve never met you.
I’ve never seen a picture of you.
I don’t know your name.
You have no impact on my day.
You create no ripples in my life.
You are nothing.
Too small to be insignificant.
You are not there.
(you do not exist)