I love humor, especially dark humor, because it helps to keep me sane in troubled times and we are in troubled times. George Zimmerman’s incomprehensible and indefensible murder of Trayvon Martin is but one of many examples of the insanity in which we find ourselves. We cannot pretend that it isn’t there because pretending will not banish it from our lives. Fear, hatred and blaming the other only adds to our problems.
Like it or not, we are being inexorably forced by the growing disorder in our lives to acknowledge that we, collectively speaking, are the problem and the solution. We have a lot of bad ideas that manifest daily in senseless acts of violence on an individual and global scale.
We have run out of room to hide from each other here in the fabled and symbolic Garden of Eden that we call Earth.
Each of us is a part of the problems and the problems we face are bigger than any one person can solve. Yet, there are solutions apparent to anyone with eyes to see.
We are going to have to work together on a global scale to create peace and harmony, but the path begins at home, which is our very own self.
Until you see yourself in the other, you cannot see yourself.
Pain is pain, but humor softens it and Malisha is quite accomplished at seeing humor in tragedy. Here, she recreates George Zimmerman’s pathetic tale of searching for an address to conceal that the real address he is searching for has materialized into a person whom he is hunting.
He will find him, but he will not find the answer he seeks.
George, to NEN:
Um, Hello, this is George again. I have some addresses for you now.
Sean: Are these addresses where the guy is?
George: No, he ran. These assholes always get away. These are addresses where he is NOT.
Sean: OK, so what is your address George?
George: To be honest with you, I have a bad memory. Could we just skip to the addresses where the suspect is NOT? Because I remember THEM, now, and I don’t want to go back to my truck because then I’ll forget again.
Sean: OK, shoot.
George: Firssssst, one one, one oh, uh, Retreat View Circle, uh, tell them to go left, and…
Sean: That’s the club house?
George: Yeah, and he’s not there.
Sean: OK, where else isn’t he?
George: He’s… [slap slap, slap slap] shit… one two one one, uh…
Sean: George? Are you there?
Sean: Wherever you are now?
George: Just tell them to call me, OK?
Sean: Call you?
George: Yeah, call me maybe.
Sean: That’s a song, George.
George: Uh…well numbers all around, flying by, up and down,
Some as slow as Christmas coming, Some like the speed of sound, And we all wonder, what they mean, The highs, the lows, the in betweens, Most of them mean absolutely nothing But some of them mean everything…
Sean: George, do you see the suspicious guy?
George: Negative. Lost visual on the suspect. Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye, four and twenty blackbirds baked into a pie,…
Sean: George, do you still want the officers to meet you there?
George: Rescue me, Come on and rescue me, Come on baby and rescue me, Come on baby and rescue me, ‘Coz I need you by my side, Can’t you see that I’m lonely, Rescue meeeeee…