Shine on! Moon on! Break down the walls, bust open the door and drink it all in!

My wife’s and my conversation this morning:

Me: “I think ‘I shot the sheriff’ is about more, it could be about revolution.”

Wife: “I think it’s advice about a career in law enforcement.”

Me: “How’s that?”

Wife: “If you go into law enforcement, you should probably be a deputy.”

I think we all get up in the morning and go into the kitchen.  We open the door to the fridge and see that left over lasagna or Chinese or paella.  We take out the pan or gallon Tupperware container and we set it on the counter.  We marvel in its simplicity, its weight and its value.  Then in sheer desperation due to the controls that are chained to us every day from modern society the never ending assault on our freedoms and civil liberties and in an all-out defiance of the limitations and responsibilities of our lives we going into a gluttonous rage.  You dive into the lasagna with both hands, honed from hours of training in tandem with the original Karate Kid movie, you’re about to wax the shit out of this layered pasta meal.  You feel the cold wet supple pasta layers easily yield to your weaponized hands now called pasta shovels.  You tilt your body into the gorging stance and begin to lift handful after handful of leftover meal into your mouth.  You barely have time to chew as pasta, sauce and high quality ricotta spurt out your mouth and down your chin, slopping back into the pan to immediately get picked up and slopped back into your pie hole.  With no abandon you mash more and more into you body, you choke and cough out food.  You start to smash it all over your face and head, taking time to pound on the Formica.  At times you lose your balance and fall to the floor screaming and rolling around on the linoleum.  You regain some stance only to go back in the fridge grab a 2 liter bottle of Barq’s root beer, shake it up and then rip it open with your teeth. The plastic cuts your mouth and the blood only curdles your frenzy into something deeply primal, your screams are roars.  You run out of you abode and into the streets tearing off your clothes and your inhibitions. You are free, free to claim yourself as human.