Perfecting the Upset / November 16 2003
In Hollywood, they do two things. First, they make money. Off of you, off of your mother and your neighbours. But that's what they do: make money. Second, they build your dreams. Hollywood is undeniably the foundation of your future. Everything you can hope or imagine is built by them, established, polished and refined until it sinks into your bloodstream so thoroughly that you can do nothing but nod, smile and be attentive.
The money part is justifiable. It runs the world, feeds you and clothes you. It takes you up the societal ladder and places you amongst the dark angels of capitalism. It is crucial to your existence, as it can buy you fire, water, air and even love. Contrary to popular belief, it can buy you happiness.
But the dreams: They're evil and uncalled for. We wake in the morning in order to find another day, but instead wish for tomorrow. Today is never good enough, and tomorrow is always a day away. We never learn; this time, repetition fails us. Hollywood creates our own earthly purgatory.
But Hollywood, I say to you here and now: I'm planning ahead, I'm planning in advance. I'm going to flank your offensive and cut through your lies. I'm going to launch an attack on your capital when you've got your pants off. I'm on a mission to perfect the upset—War has begun.
