This is not elementary school, damn it!
Hell no!
Been there, done that, no need to rinse and repeat!
Right on!
We are evolved beings!
Exactly!
And we will not be treated in a lesser manner!
No way!
But is this really true?
Huh?
Are we really that evolved?
Um…
Allow me to tell you a story, then you tell me: are we essentially any more evolved than we were 100,000 years ago?
Adam was raised a nobody in big-branching tree, far out on a limb stretching way off to the right, so far off and out and up that he could touch Heaven, he said. He had to have something to grasp, just like we all do, and that was his shtick. It gave him importance. And over time, from sheer repetition of thought, he began to believe more and more strongly in his importance, such that every whim that skimmed his head was to him a suggestion from God Himself.
From the outside looking in Adam appeared as weak-minded and unsure of himself as the majority of others in the big tree and, having been dismissed as another of the white-washed mainstream, the mainstream itself paid little attention to him. The slightly more with-it mainstreamers couldn’t be bothered with the insignificant, and instead troubled themselves with what they felt were more impressive issues.
At a time when scroll seals, trumpets and bowls were being let loose and locusts were looming thick and black on the horizon, big tree morale, resolve, and independent thinking had all but died out. The more with-its needed to somehow achieve success at the daunting task of finding a leader from amongst their wishy-washy midst, a somebody who could guide their big-branching tree in these times of heightened conflict and cosmic disturbances.
Although Adam felt overqualified for this position, importance-wise, he realized he would not be taken seriously by the others because of his appearance, uncomely and uncertain as it was, and he forgave them for that as was right to do. The big tree populace collectively swore they were aware that appearances were deceiving yet they consistently grasped unbecomingly desperately at anyone that looked good enough to eat and talked smack.
He understood that, for at the core of his importance, he was but one of them. And it was just this inborn foible that he would play on, for the mother of all whims had descended upon him. He would single-handedly find his people a leader. He knew exactly what to look for considering the tribulations of the times and his people’s set-in-stone taste for the sensational.
While the majority of the tree people were all engaged in the hand-flapping, tail-chasing circular dance of Mundanity, he would scour the whole of the big-branching tree to find a candidate with the exact number of sequins and baubles required to register no lower than a 9.7 on the miracle scale.
It took five months of full-time searching but finally Adam hit the jackpot. Her name was Mae West, the double entendre queen, a real buxom beauty, the fastest talking, most bodacious brick wall of a woman he’d ever smacked up against. She had confidence out the wazoo, enough to light up the big-branching tree and all of Heaven like it was Christmas.
Adam started a website and pushed Mae to the hilt. It didn’t take long before the entire right side of the big tree was on board and the MaeForLeader blog site was getting 3000 hits per day. Soon the more with-its and the ones with power to spare were all over Mae. Asked if he thought Mae could do the job, the Top Right Tree Being said, “Do you really need to ask? I mean, just look at her!”
And that was all it took. She was in. Next thing you know they’d pushed her out onto the stage, front and center, stuck a mike in her face and pulled her string, “I don’t like myself, I’m crazy about myself,” she said, but was quick to add, “But you know what? I’m even crazier about you mainstreamers! You betcha!” And the crowd went wild.
Fini
PHOTO CREDITS:
Sunlit tree snagged from http://www.snellvilleumc.org/clientimages/31612/adults/oak_tree_1_copy.jpg
Graffiti tree from http://www.eveandersson.com/photos/germany/berlin-graffiti-painting-large.jpg
Click here for more on prompt “#134 – ‘I don’t like myself, I’m crazy about myself,’ Mae West” from other Sunday Scribblings participants
The Essence of a Thing 
Oh my. The parallels you’ve so effectively drawn here are disturbing, and make me feel, especially after the rather excessive amount of dessert I’ve lately been enjoying, a little queasy. Let’s hope we do not all succumb to the Mae West sucker punch.
Now that was fun to read! And a unique take on the prompt. BJ
Ouch, Madam A. I’m with Anno the Michigan Math Teacher on this. We’re (okay, I’re) all out here struttin’ our Wu-Tangs and you’ve gone all allegorical on us, not that your palindromic pilgrim’s progress isn’t chock full of your trademark sequined brilliance (and hilarity). Still and all, I woulda sworn Ms Mae was a blue-stater. Blue racer, at the very least.
You rock the joint and light up blogging’s ur-Tree. Certainly, the ur-Scribblers.
Duly chastened, I shall climb back into my bed and not sleep with a few dozen more.
Sooo, What? Do we live in a giant historical palindrome, (or Sarah Palindrome?) where it is ‘evil’ to ‘live’ , ha,ha, (which becomes ah, ah,) ? At least the “AHA!” moment remains the same. I think I’m getting a headache!
Sorry about the quease, anno! You just never know what you’ll find here, eh? I should alter this site’s source code to contain an interrupt sequence that queries readers for a yes or no after a content warning. LOL!
Hellooo BJ! Thanks for checking this out and rolling with the fun of it :-)
Paschal, I’d put a bandaid on your boo-boo if I wasn’t so full of lacitilop irritation! Self-aggrandizement is not for me, but red-stater Adam’s got no problem with it, so I left it to him ;-)
Wow, I never knew I had such an ailihphilia until I read your clever comment, Bass! No aibohphobia for you either, I see ;-) Now I’m a born again Retrosorter and I refer mainly to words that fly level with the radar like a racecar or a copter rotor that does the deed at noon. And I sees the battle of the sexes as a xanax tenet of boob solos and stats, a toot and peep show. So to hell with it, I say, as I kayak to the dewed banks of the Adda River to meet the Releveler. We gonna drown out the peeweep sounds with some Abba and use his rotavator to stir up some trouble, maybe repaper the walls, or get redder than ever doin’ pullups ‘til we need a reviver.
Nice cuppa lapsang souchong and some cucumber sandwiches, or hell, just a nice Pimm’s cup (or two) and a muffaletta down at the Napoleon House do wonders for that lacitilop irritation. You know, first blush, that looks like something for nursing mothers to watch out for; it sounds painful. Ecaep, retsis.
You bein’ as fulla good ideas as you are, I went on down to Chartres and St. Louis and checked into the Napolean House. What a cool old place! So I sa’down and had me a Pimm’s No. 1 Cup. It was so goshdarned good I made ‘em fix me up with a Pimm’s No. 3 Winter Cup and that was so fine I had ‘em follow up with a Pimm’s No. 6. Then I told ‘em, “Is that all you got? Gimme a Maximum Voltage Pimms No. 6 ri’chere!” but the barkeep considered my mood successfully enough altered so I just sat there and stared at all the pretty bottles while I had me one o’ them Italian Muffalettas to soak up some of the Pimm’s :-D
There you go, girl.
so, it’s the sassy wench out to play this week ain’t it??? — don’t know about voting your candidate cuz you can steamroll all of the them what don’t be mindful with the bullshit baffling the brains, but you’d be a scream as a campaign manageress — graffiti tree is by way of being a great graphic!!!
LOL! This is amazing! I really didn’t expect to find Mae in your story the way it was going. hahahah
Oh evolve…evolution is overrated ;)
And how, Paschal :-D
You know it, danni! I’ve no self-proclamations, so that left me with time to get heartburn over something and get all satirical about it. Anyway, I prefer to use the SS prompts to roust out of me something that blasts past literal. I’d go all the way to campaign manageress if that’s where the rocketship landed ;-) What a hoot that’d be, for sure! But I’d especially like to end up painting a wall at night with Banksy.
Hey Ms. Mood! Amazing? Wrap it up, I’ll take it! :-)
Thanks for your comment on my Stupids Anonymous/Sunday Scribbling. I checked out your blog — your writing is unusual and very good!
Very interesting — the post, and the comments… a phine photo as well.
Welcome, Walking Satellite! And thanks ever so much for having a look around here. Your finding makes me smile. I’ve tried on the particularly attractive word “unusual” and very much like its fit :-)
A big welcome to you, too, Rob! Interesting’s the best word to describe this construction zone, for sure. I’m flying by the seat of my pants, working without a permit, and tempting fate by whooping it up on site with the regulars ;-)