This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

I’ve never been very interested in basketball. It’s the opposite of soccer for me. In soccer they play for an hour and the score is nothing to nothing. In basketball, they play for an hour, and the score is 119 to 119 with 35 seconds to play. If you love it, love it. I’m not here to rile you. I just wanted to say I  understand a drought. I was raised a Cubs fan while police and social agencies stood idly by. I get it; this is a big deal. Potentially a once in a lifetime event.

And were I the president of the Untied Snakes and not hardly a fan of the game at all. I would probably just skip it. Save myself all the trouble and effort, and minutia of being president. Everyone wants to shake your hand and gush. Just gimmie my hotdog, my beer, and show me where to sit. It’s a lot of work for a lot of people to put his big butt in that arena. He must really love the game, like a true fair-weather fan. “Oh, they’re in the finals? Let’s go! Go Nicks! And what’s the coaches name, again?

But the tickets are $8,000 each, sir! No, they’re not. Not for me, they’re not. I just wave my hand and say, “Open Says Me!” And the doors swing wide fucking open! Any door, they just let you do it! Do you need another hot dog, sir? “No, pizza!”

Now imagine, just for the sake of argument, that you were elected to this high office because of your well-known good nature and sense of fairness. The day before the game, a trusted advisor explains the security arrangements for the game. A hundred thousand people will be inconvenienced. Twenty thousand people will be directly inconvenienced. Waiting in line for several EXTRA hours. Watch party Canceled! Fortunately, this was New York, where they have a sense of proper decorum and decency. Go Nicks! Fuck Trump!

New Yorkers always go all out with neatly cut-out large letters spelling out “Fuck Trump!” exclamation point included! Everyone knows how small New York apartments are. Did you each pick out a letter? Or were those professionally done? Gosh, everybody knows a guy in New York. All in all, it was a well done spectacle. Now, here’s the tricky part. How dim must the lights be upstairs to not be able to see this massive outpouring of hate and disgust? And it’s not all political. Many New Yorkers are simply pleading with Donald Trump. Please go away! Please don’t fuck this up for us!

Americanism: “The Beast” is the government vehicle which carries the Beast. Isn’t the Beast what the Bible refers to as the Anti-Christ? Boy, you’d think something like that would keep those nutty biblical scholars up nights. Air Force 666. More pizza sir? “No more French fries!”

But would you, as a casual fan, inconvenience tens of thousands to watch a ballgame you could easily watch from home? Now imagine you’re an ex-New Yorker who left New York with “Kiss my ass! I ain’t never coming back here!” on his lips. “I’m going to Florida where there ain’t  so many damn…laws and stuff. But I’ll be back, if any local sports teams do well.” Mr. Trump couldn’t make it to Don Jr.’s wedding because of the Iran war. But fire up the beast, we’re going to  the Garden for game three, baby! Ticket’s? I got my ticket right here, (grabs crotch) You think I’m exaggerating, don’t you? I don’t think so.

Call them up over at the garden and tell them I’m coming! Tell them, that all their plans are out the window! Tell them, we’ll have a hundred fifty government agents there in an hour to take over everything!

So after being jeered and booed all the way from the airport. Mr. Trump enters da Gaden to a resounding chorus of even louder boos and jeers. They attempted to put the Donald’s likeness on the Jumbotron, and the boos and cheers increased until threatening to drown out the national anthem. For about 15 seconds the hate for Donald Trump was louder than the national anthem. That was like something out of a movie. Quick! Take his picture down before they riot!  But remember; 34% of all Americans still believe in Donald Trump. (Some people will believe anything)

“Do you want me to lead them in the pledge of allegiance, like last time?”

But guess what? As Donald rode the beast in triumph through the hail of thundering boos. He didn’t care. He didn’t hear your complaint, nor does he care. It’s way worse than we think. “You cannot reach him now. Goodbye cruel world, goodbye.” The thought of the thousands inconvenienced never once entered his mind. He’s gone. He’s waiting for the worms to come.

Now he wanted to go to the basketball game. End of story! But sir, it will inconvenience thousands. “So?” They’ll have to stand in line for hours just to get in! “So?” They’ll have to cancel the watch parties! “So?” True narcissism performing at its highest level. I don’t give a shit about any of you pukes! I’m going to the basketball game! And I don’t even care if you don’t like it!  Fuck you New York! Donald Trump is back! And of course, the Nicks lost game three.

All of that! All of that nonsense and government expense, to put Donald Trump’s ass in the building. He eats his hotdog, his pizza and his French fries, burbs and promptly falls asleep. Parents! We know what comes next, don’t we? Nappy change and night, night. I’d wager Mr. Trump won’t even ask who won the game. In Donald’s mind, the only winner is Donald. And if Donald doesn’t get his way he orders more airstrikes in the Gulf.

A pure self-centered narcissist. He pushes his way into the ballgame, inconveniencing a hundred thousand people and then falls asleep during the game. In some countries that would be big news, but not here in this country.

“Today I know that all things are watching, that nothing goes unseen, that even wallpaper has a better memory than human beings.” ― Günter Grass,