Dear Dirty America


It’s A Cyrano De Bergerac World

October 20
20:34 2012

(reprinted from The Birth of Road Rage — find the book here)

It’s a Cyrano De Bergerac world. It’s a Motley Crew with an umlaut stitched on its forehead. Kryptonite for the good guys, fame and fortune for the hyenas who milk the world dry. Jesus is a laughing stock in a bullish market, just like your uncle James who always mumbled and wound up dead in the gutter.The birth, the death, the resurrection: a fat man in a red suit whispering “buy” in a little child’s ear; carpenters and their 12-penny nails; a bonanza of chocolate bunnies wrapped in colorful tinfoil.

Hallmark rules. Dominus vobiscum. Another day in paradise.


There’s no place to go with this sweet reminiscence. There’s no hole in the wall to slip through. They go in fighting and come out reciting commercials–Lauren Bacall, Ray Charles, William Burroughs, for Christ’s sake–next thing you know they’ll have Bob Dylan doing Nike. “Yeah, man–like, when I do the jog thing in the morning, before I mainline with the joy juice, I like to nail on my Nikes…”

Nike is a missile. Nike is a shoe. Nike is a bitch goddess.


So what would Cyrano say to all this? He’d jeer at our Soap Opera production. He’d piss on it from a considerable height. He’d unsheathe his sword and start in skewering scoundrels. He’d spew satire and court romance like a moth does a flame. He’d lend his soul to some pretty-faced airhead to win the hand of a lady. He’d march off to war and come home a one-legged hero. He’d not give an inch and in old age he’d become a victim of drive-by. The street cleaner would sweep up his remains.

It’s better to walk alone than walk with fools.

Find John Bennett’s novels, short stories, and shards at Hcolom Press. You can contact him, or get on his Shards list at:


Smoke gets in your eyes 



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