The “American Dream” is a lie. Half of you are shaking your head saying “No shit, Sherlock.” You’re right. But you’re right for the wrong reasons. And that makes you as wrong as the other half of you that are still convinced that with a little bit of spit-shine, elbow grease and hard work you can hobnob with celebrities in the world of haute couture.

You’re probably wondering who I am. Doesn’t matter. You’re never going to meet me. Not the real me anyway. You’ll moon over the person I’m masquerading as, whether it’s a super model or action star. You see, I’m one of the people who takes control of a likely candidate. We don’t really have a name for ourselves, but there’s a lot of us. And collectively, we’ve got millennia worth of experience. You know that kid you just watched on Youtube that completely shredded that guitar solo? One of us.

You’re probably wondering why I’m sitting here with my five dollar latte talking to you about this shit. That’s a good question. I guess I’m bored. I’ve been waiting for a good vacancy for a while now. I missed my chance at the last pop starlet that had a meltdown. You remember that? Made all the headlines. Two of us fighting for control after the last inhabitant got bored. So that’s why I’m here, in a New York subway talking with you schlubs. Keeping an eye out for the next top talent. Someone that’ll get me to the top of my people’s own hierarchy for a change.

Oh, stop staring at me in slack-jawed horror. Or is that awe? Fine line between the two, believe you me. Hey! You running away! NO ONE IS GOING TO BELIEVE YOU! Ahh fuck it. They never listen. You all. You’re still hear. Still listening. You think I’m just some crazy homeless guy. Some D-Lister who finally broke. In a way your right. But you’re right for the wrong reasons. So once again…

Twenty bucks to the lady in the back. Got it in one. Wrong. What am I doing here then? Well, I’m amusing myself until my appointment arrives. I know? Who has appointments in the subways these days? Why not pick out the most recently trending bistro? Well, the person I’m meeting doesn’t realize that I’m meeting them. Let me tell you, it took ages to set this up. I had to call in some favors that I’ve been holding on to since the Napoleonic Wars. Yeah go on you two, nobody needs you listening to them anyway. Good riddance ya fuckers.

Where was I? Oh yeah, so I called in those favors, guy who had Wellington owed me a big one. Yes, I know his last name was Wellesley. Are you impressed with the tiny bit of knowledge you scraped together? Just to correct me? That makes you a prat. Anyway, called in the favors. Found a nice bit of meat that should last me well into the end of the century. That beeping? The alarm on my watch. It’s been nice chatting with you all, but I’ve got a person to catch. You can read about me in the papers.


Who are all you people? Why are you standing around me? Where am I?

Apropos of: A little thought


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