Will Work For Lemons

  At first, everything was stupid. Everything was supposed to be totally cool, but it wasn't. Nothing was like I imagined, like it was on TV. Nearly my every curiosity proved more disappointment. Nothing exhilarated my spirits in the way that I was shown it should. Experiences didn't live up to the examples. Products never lived up to the commercials. 

  After I learned the basics, like reading, writing, and arithmetic, I realized that everything was crap. Spontaneously gathering around the piano as a family after a Christmas miracle, turns out to be the most unusual phenomenon. There's always more lemon than all of the other flavors in the package. Why? The consumer doesn't want mostly lemon, and the manufacturer knows it. If you want cherry and grape, you have to also pay for the lemon.  The ice cream shop has chocolate ice cream, but your chocolate milkshake is made with vanilla and just enough chocolate syrup to make it slightly brown, but not enough to make it taste like chocolate. Is the chocolate ice cream so much more expensive than the vanilla that they can't afford to actually sell it to you? Is there a chocolate syrup shortage? No! Then why? Because everything must be crap. 

  Crap eventually got lame. I was at the age when everyone thought they were the shit. Everything was intense, and extreme, and lines were crossed, but it was all the same. The products and experiences were new, but the results were identical. They were lame and discontenting. 

  It was lame for so long, it became retarded. I kept asking myself why. I could understand the greed of the industries misleading my expectations of their goods. What I couldn't comprehend was why I should be influenced to desire drama. Why don't I instinctively scream when I lay eyes on a creature that might bite me? Why have I never screamed from running into my girlfriends at the mall? I scream when I'm startled, but when stuff doesn't sneak up behind me, I deal with it at a comfortable volume. Why don't I regularly cry tears of joy? Why don't each of my problems require a half hour of the world's attention? Why are all exciting activities only thirty seconds long, but you have to wait all day to participate? To drive me to vicariously feel through entertainment interrupted by words from sponsors who leave me no choice but to buy lemons? 

  Yes. Of course. It all circles back to industrial greed. I've been thoughtfully designed as part of an elaborate plan to make the rich richer. My place in society is to empty my pockets. Life is drug that I can't afford. I can't stop thinking about how I'll get my next fix, and every fix only gets me high enough to make me need more. I need and need and continue to need, so some jerks in giant houses can continue to go without want. I have a disgusting habit and it's called being normal. 

  I guess I'll smoke a few sitcoms to take off the edge until I find something pretty to shoot into my veins when I cash in this $1 winning lottery ticket that I scratched while I reported a stray dog to the Stray Dog Killing League(SDKL), because I'm a contributing member. 

..And that, my friend, is gay.