Okay so this morning I woke up realizing a few things. First, as some of you may know I am a recovering substance abuser and it will be 2 years sober in 46 days (I’m still counting). But that’s not the point of this post. Don’t worry, I’ll make a big freakin deal of that when I cross that bridge.
The point is that I got silly off of ONE big ol’ malt liquor last night. Naturally, while being in recovery, I try not to drink. Alcohol was never what I had a problem with, so I allow a certain leeway there - but still.. One drink? I remember drinking vodka like water in college and still being functional in class the next day.
If Jim Morrison were still alive today he’d be fat and bald and singing Katy Perry songs in Vegas You know he would and Janis would be a host on the View hangin’ out with Whoopie and bowing down in slavish sycophancy at the altar of Kanye and Kim You know she would And John Lennon would be side to side with Dylan pimpin’ Super Bowl Chevrolets with the desiccated dregs of their fading talent and fame You know they would
I mean, the past is not pristine We look back, again and again through rose colored glasses at the generations past and like to think that they were pure and clean and tidy but come on now, take a cold, hard look they were a mess they were a laughingstock they were a disaster just like you just like me just like all of us take a look at the person to your right they’re a disaster take a look at the person to your left they’re a disaster now take a look in the mirror what do you see? a disaster, that’s what you see but when you and me and everyone you know are dead and gone and in our graves we’ll all be remembered as angels and superstars you know we will
‘Cause everything looks better in hindsight but the past is not pristine the past was not simple and easy or straight black and white and contrary to popular opinion there were no good ol’ days of chocolate malts and apple pie of small towns and honest morals of family and friends and the good life, right there within everyone’s reach there were no good ol’ days at all
When you say, “Let’s go back to the good ol’ days.” Do you mean the good ol’ days when marriage was sacred between one man and one woman? when the Mexicans stayed in Mexico and left the good ol’ US of A to us? when women knew their place was in the kitchen or in the bedroom on their knees? when colored folk were free to choose between staying on the farm or hangin’ from a tree? Is that what you mean when you say, “Let’s go back to the good ol’ days.”? ‘Cause those good ol’ days may have been good for rich straight white Christian men but they weren’t so fuckin’ hot for anybody else
You see, the past is not pristine for African-Americans or lesbian-Americans for Mexican-Americans or Guatemalan-Americans it’s not pristine for impoverished Americans or transgender-Americans for atheist-Americans or Muslim-Americans
The past is not pristine and if you’re still able to examine our history and see tended gardens and sparkling cobblestone streets then maybe you should look at your hands because the dirt has got to go somewhere doesn’t it?