Monday, June 19, 2006

world cup fff

it's that time, and i thoroughly enjoyed this one, #41.
jj for getting us fff'ers going. i love that dude.

A cry went started slow and soft but the build was undeniable. it was the sound of life. from the lifeless masses, it was the sound of life.
nothing had moved the populace in years – decades, possibly – and now there was this sound, this cry.
the administration had decided that the populace could be more productive if injected with some sort of raison d’etre, or joie de vivre, or some suchlike foreign-sounding phrase of life-expression that gave them something to rally round. and the administration had decided the time to try was nigh.
it’d been in the planning for some time, but, of course, the populace knew nothing of it until it was time for them to be made aware. when the administration determined the time was a right as it would ever be to try this newfangled idea, it was fed to the populace, as everything else was. for their own good. because the administration knows what’s good for the populace – the administration is what’s good for the populace – the administration is by the people for the people, so what’s good for the administration is good for the people…
or something like that.
it worked.
this had been trickled down to the populace through the filters – the same filters that insidiously “leaked” information about the “best” places to work, buy, eat, live (in that order) – the filters that ensured homogeneity, and thus control, now brought this new idea.
the populace didn’t notice it becoming part of the routine at first – the updates, the tiny amount of interest they piqued that set up the future thrill at success – at first it was just part of the landscape that none of the populace had noticed in years, too busy with commuting, working and consuming – but it grew.
as the administration’s man had said, it built slowly, but steadily, and the populace seemed to start caring without noticing, or necessarily knowing why. it became the highlight of days of sameness; hearing of progress, having something to discuss, wanting to discuss it…
wanting to discuss happenings seemed new to the populace – at least those young enough that they didn’t remember – but it caught on. soon they were talking; talking about results, stats, possibilities – possibilities were definitely new.
the talk grew from a whisper to a buzz, from a buzz to a cry, and by the time the final match was played the entire populace was watching, tuned in and turned on, as predicted.
the administration had already began the 1st round of self-congratulation in their high-rise, air-conditioned offices, based on initial reports of increased activity and productivity as enthusiasm for life had increased among the populace. they had the match on their large flat-screens, even though they knew it was all being staged by professionals on their payroll, right down to the fans in the stadium – they wanted to see the show too – after all, they’d produced it.
but as the final seconds of the match played out, the cry became a roar. the roar became a riot – the populace was finally awake and rushing out into the streets to take back the life stolen and rationed back out to them by the man, while the administration still celebrated the outcome in those fancy offices, watching the pre-written post-game interviews over cocktails, completely unaware that their empire was about to fall.

and this here's a link to one of the injustices that led to the trinidad+tobago soca warriors' loss to england in last week's 1st-round world cup match- simon crouch, if i weren't so impressed with john terry's save on behalf of allyuh team, i'd take out my varied frustrations on you...
big-up the soca warriors for some of the best football i've ever seen them play, against both sweden+england; avery, babes, even with the accumulated red card, is love still. i will be wearing my revolution jersey that grims secretly bought me.
and big-up ghana, my other motherland, for what i hear has been the best match of this world cup thus far- i missed it because i had a show, but it was nice to call fred for fathers' day and hear him happy to talk about ghana...
walk good.


Blogger Girl With An Alibi said...

It's like a metaphor for so many things. Great story.

3:01 pm  
Blogger angel said...

have to agree with the alibi'd chick here- that was truly excellent!

3:13 pm  
Anonymous zed aka ( only by my sister ) gremlin said...

aahhhmmm sis - the dirty player who pulled sancho hair, is PETER crouch not SIMON crouch. Simon crouch was the principal from st.joseph convent son, he kinda cute...

5:19 pm  
Blogger eg said...

thanks zed for making the correction. What kinda peong would I be with my wife runnin around talkin about simon crouch.

8:51 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

true, true, is d wrong crouch...apologies from the ombudsman of sweet trini's urban folk tales.
walk good.

11:12 pm  
Blogger sweet trini said...

i think i just remembered is simon crouch brother who's the alright-looking one- i think simon was the rat-face one...
walk good.

11:41 pm  
Blogger Writeprocrastinator said...

"It's like a metaphor for so many things. Great story."

I third that notion.

Like the NBA, football could eliminate so much unnecessary controversy and idiocy by just having a stationary referee on each side.

Thus, they would eliminate the bad trailing angle that creates the poor foul calls, and they would be able to see the dirty s.o.b's when they cheat.

11:36 pm  
Blogger porchwise said...

Another good peek into the future.

10:55 am  

Post a Comment

<< Home