Blanket on a cage

Amazing watching the tendons fluctuate in the shadow of Tony Baltimore’s forearm.  Changing frets like a woodpecker beating on a tree.  Human skeletal muscles cultivated into the rhythmic precision of a mack truck’s diesel.  Not sure if this makes me believe more in god or androids.

This is such a strange country.  We live in the year 2015, half a millenium after Christopher Columbus sailed over to rape and pilage, and we are somehow an isolationist culture.  Yea, we buy plastic fuckdolls from china and cheese from Italy, but I still get the same reaction from native Americans (lower-case ‘n’, or perhaps without the ‘t’) when they discover that I speak German with my mother, the same reaction I got when I was in elementary school. 

n.A.: “Oooh, say something in German!”
me: “What do you want me to say?”
n.A.: “Anything.  Just say something.”
me: “Etwas.”

There is an entire species of humans, just EXACTLY like us out there on this gigantic, round habitat, and 90% of this 300,000,000+ person country knows absolutely nothing about. 

My co-worker from England says to me last night that it’s strange that such racism exists in this country.  If 85% of the country is white, then almost no one is living next door to a black family.  We only see Latinos working in the kitchen or doing construction or landscaping.  We don’t experience the other 6.7 billion people on Earth.  We are locked away like Japan was before WWII.  We are a tribe in the Amazon who happens upon a plastic bag.  We are sheltered children, 500 years old, sucking our thumbs as we peer curiously from behind the curtain of the second story window in our ignorant, white suburban neighborhood.

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