In the year of the whirling wind, blasting sands, cascading rain; the year of the mongrel beast of war endlessly chasing its flea-bitten tail, a prophet of restless dudes scaled Mt. Rushnomore, seeking counsel with the electrifying powers that be.
2. Thus spake the prophet dude. “Eternal CEOs of centuries flushed down the drain of time; ye who have dazzled and conned naive humankind with awe-inspiring displays, triune, quadraphonic to behold; ye who converse in heavenly, Berlitizian unknown tongues, hear my humble (but mainly cool) complaint.
3. “Yea, verily! Ye who made the sun stand still in its skyward climb; ye who made Jericho’s wall tumble with a hot belly chord; ye who made Noah’s ark a crib for lowly ass and bellowing pachyderm (our present pets); ye who turned well water into Palestinian Perrier: give us thy hands-on blessings of total space out for this the Age of Aquarius.
4. “Give us a push-button rod to conjure with, a change-channel staff to comfort us. Give us thy constant rerun soaps. Gridiron images of total adoration. Placebo messages of world dominion. Free-floating, whiz-bang, be-here-now, do-whatever-thou-wilt (and so much more).
5. “Give us — who in thy tripartite likeness we are carbon copies: duplicates, water-cooler lookalikes — a heavenly high-tech mitzvah. (Why let ye Three-in-One have all the fun?) Amen.”
6. Then atop Mt. Rushnomore spoke a voice from a burning bush, unlike any theocratic tumbleweed past, present, or future. [Annotator’s note: that is until January 20, 2008]. “O lowly assembly line kinda guy!” it said, echoing like ten thousand autoharps in perfect E-flat Pluribus Unison. “May We, the autonomous Big Three, presume, that thou art not content to keep sabbath, ritual, holy day? Lease and buy our chariots, used and otherwise? Kiddest thou?
7. “Is it not enough to be a) fruitful and b) multiply, unlike those same-sex burbs of Sodom and Gomorrah, merely one but not the t’other?”
8. Then answered the prophet dude (sun-glassing his eyes for the sight of the day-glo, smoldering shrub was too much for mere mortal sight), “These are trying, ball-busting times. Years of zillion dollar debt. Trickle-down disaster. (All knowing Big-Three, surely thou getteth da’ pitcher?) Grant us, thy hallowed hocus pokus to help us make it through the night.
9. “Yea, and howdy doody!” he continueth. “Ye whom the Angels, Cardinals, and Cubs praise sky high, ad infinitum, ad nauseum, let our three-score-ten (so short a bluenote gig) be sweet and 24/7 entertained, in this bad-ass epoch of mumble-grumble, wife-swap politics, and navel fuzzing. Give us top booking. Amen.”
10. So moved by this bogue supplication, the burning bush toned down its thousand points of light, and in an omnipotent, omnipresent, omnivorous, omnibus, oh-my-gosh voice spoke forth again. “O prophet dude, we, the autocratic Trinity, think thou hast indeed a legitimate axel to grind. Take, then, our magic buyout. Thus with kith and kin go raiseth hell.
11. “Better still. Many are these cellphone charms to chose. (One model never fits all ears). Yea, truly, prophet dude, these gizmos are prestidigitation! Images. Tunes. Eden postures. Instant hand-held, high-watt joy. Be now gods like Us! Never bored. Wide awake. FM/AM power mad. (But these new add-on, commandments, O prophet dude, must be obeyed.)
12.”Make thou no You Tube graven images. No iPod XXXing during prime time. TXT us when in TRBL. (See if indeed We give a damn.) And always recharge in an AC socket. No DC hanky panky. LXXXVI and out. Ciao! Pax! Amen!”