California Dreamin'

Greetings! From the swamplands of what used to be America's best kept secret, South Florida.
     It is becoming increasingly difficult to tell the difference between the thick fog of humidity and the plumes of hot air emanating from the long-time residents here; who spit when they talk about the days of old, or the "Good Ol' Days," as it were.
     All is not quiet on this Eastern front. To the contrary...chaos, madness, belly laughs and aimless meandering are made available to all as standard issue in the Swamplands. Come one, and come all! See the freak show of the land of misfit and broken toys. We belong nowhere but here, if anywhere at all. Forgive us for we know not what we do, only how we want to feel. Give us this Sin, our daily bread.
      By any means necessary! We shout, as we peel the old paint of any morality we had the illusion of once possessing. Tear down that wall! Peeling the paint is no longer enough to contain the hunger; grab a couple of sledgehammers and let's take care of this once and for all. One good swing is all it'll take. And always one or two more for good measure, just to make sure. Now bury the evidence of these misgivings, lest they remain to haunt you on your next bout with "Him."
     He can't really see everything can He? Can She? Who are they? We'll never know until we finally take that one step too far over the line; too far to tell the story, too far for anyone to hear. But hear my story they will; by force, fear or feelings of empathy. Fear not! Oh ye of little faith, I come in pieces. Peace be unto you.
           Hopelessly hopeful and lost in translation,
           -anonymous