Katie Couric is the Dream

The American Dream.  Ahhh, that allusive son of a bitch!  I tried to find him in Gatsby, Thompson and Hollywood, but I was always left with nothing but doubt.  Does he really exist?  Is he the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?  If a true-blooded American like me can’t put my faith in him, what can I?  Shit, not even God, that terrible fascist, can be counted on if there is no American Dream.  Hasn’t every president since the first George asserted that America is God’s country, and our wars, our grand schemes and dreams his own?  It's divine province to be free to make what ever money I want to make just as long as I work hard, pray hard, and always remain pleasant.  That’s the American Dream!  That’s what I’ve been searching so hard for.  Where is he, it, she, the fuck?  I’ve worked goddamn hard.  I worked twelve hours a day 7 days a week in the factory; I’ve worked two jobs going back and forth back and forth, cutting meat serving factory made food at Applebee’s, cutting meat serving factory made food at Applebee’s—all while smiling despite people’s shit.  And I’m still dirt poor. 

I would be content if I were to think I was some kind of fluke—some twisted joke from God.  An example like Jesus to show people he has a sense of humor.  But I’m not the only one.  There are millions more like me with the same story.  And the debt we carry is exacerbated by the right of the banks and the power companies and the oil industry to make as much as they goddamn can!  They are living the American dream! 

That’s where he is!  He’s a mutherfuckin insurance agent with his giant foot on the veins of middle and lower class America; laughin it up with his buddies in oil and energy.  Their favorite practical joke is to extend a ladder down to us, and when we begin to climb he pisses in our faces and moves our jobs to Mexico.  Fucker.  God damn it.  I think I really found him.  Maybe I need to stop this blog—and I was just beginning.  I had hope…

Oh…TV…there’s Katie Couric and Matt Lauer…aaaahhhhh….  Lovely fluffy, buybuybuy.  American Dream, you are out there, and you’re sexy and handsome, drink Coke, drive a Hummer, and live on Long Island.  I just need to work hard and find my way there to you.