Morgan Freeman Is Leading Us Down A Path To Economic Ruin

That headline is more than some sensationalistic ballyhoo. It’s more than some flimsy, baseless caterwauling from someone possessed by the spirit of a carnival barker, newsstand tabloid, or Republican pundit.

No, I fear that, sadly, there is considerable truth behind it.

Like many people, I too have been a fan of this award-winning thespian, but I now realize that I might have been lulled into a false sense of admiration.

I used to look at him as a kindly fellow – compassionate and wise. I mean, if he wasn’t offering rides to cantankerous, elderly women, you might find him engaging in the much-needed rehabilitation of falsely convicted criminals or – great Gotham! – lending logistical support to masked vigilantes wishing to rid our cities of such criminals.

(of course, lily-livered, bleeding heart types would rather that we not rid our streets of falsely convicted wife-killing bankers and, instead, target bankers who merely engage in casual games of multi-billion dollar three-card Monte)

The existential threat posed by Morgan Freeman to America came to my attention weeks ago, but it didn’t really register until this morning when I saw his most recent commercial for Visa before I’d ingested enough caffeine to think straight.

(oftentimes things only make sense when you don’t really think about them)

In this commercial, calming images of undersea flora and fauna fill the screen accompanied by the soothing strains of The Moody Blues’ Tuesday Afternoon.

Then, you hear the earnest voice of “the only guilty man in Shawshank,” asking, in an accusatory manner, “When was the last time you went to the aquarium, with your daughter, on a Tuesday?”

Sure, it sounds like a lovely way to spend the day after Monday. One of the finest aquariums in the country is a two-hour drive away and, though I have no daughter, the way some of my co-workers squeeze out offspring of both sexes as though it was a bodily function, I could likely borrow one…

But this is exactly what Morgan Freeman wants me to do. In other words, he is promoting not only truancy, but he is espousing a fiscal policy that encourages absenteeism from work.

This would all be well and good for aquarium barons, fishmongers, and oceanographers who would likely see profits that would make those of Exxon be mere pocket change, but at what cost?

Well, the rest of the economy would fall into a death spiral. If people were relaxing at aquariums instead of engaging in the daily grind of commerce, consider the revenue lost simply by those treating bleeding ulcers, intense malaise, and depression.

And the cost would extend to the next generation who – instead of learning how to take tests at a level that places them smack dab at mediocre compared to the rest of the world – would end up as ichthyologists or marine biologists.

Fortunately, today is Sunday and I suggest we all give Morgan Freeman (and his dubious, probably Socialist economic theories) the finger and head to the aquarium today.

Moonpools & Caterpillars – Sundays
from Lucky Dumpling

Joe Jackson – Sunday Papers
from Look Sharp!

‘Til Tuesday – On Sunday
from Welcome Home

The Pretenders – Everyday Is Like Sunday
from Boys On The Side soundtrack

How Are You Going To Keep Them Sedated In The ‘burbs Once They’ve Groped Elizabeth Perkins?

Apparently, AMC has been showing ‘80s movies on Mondays and I happened to catch Big the other night. I think it might have been Tom Hanks’ first major success, yes? For those who have never seen it, Hanks stars as Josh Baskin (or, rather the adult version), a twelve-year old who wakes up one morning twenty years older.

But what happened after he returns to his twelve-year old self at the end? I mean, he’s gone from just discovering girls to moving to the dirty city, living on his own, working for a living and hooking up with Elizabeth Perkins and back. That’s some major culture shock. Is he simply going to go back to algebra and little league?

To paraphrase the infinitely wise The Dude from The Big Lebowski, how are you going to keep them down on the farm once they’ve seen Karl Hungus? Or, in this case, how are you going to keep them sedated in the ‘burbs once they’ve groped Elizabeth Perkins?

Personally, I fear that if I was to return to junior high, having the knowledge and experience I now possess…it wouldn’t end well. I suspect I would be like Godzilla on a bender in Tokyo.

Would I make a move on Mrs. Wilson, my seventh grade teacher who introduced our class to Christopher Cross (apparently, I am contractually obligated to mention Christopher Cross in every post). Would I be more apt to game the system (knowing it, indeed, could, be gamed) Would I take up smoking at a younger age? Would I be hanging out in pool halls with the local toughs not content with the wonderfully mundane things that used to occupy my time?

I do know, had we met at thirteen, how I would have felt about Paloma at that age. I’ve seen photographs – that smile and feathered hair (at least before she discovered punk rock) – and I know that I’d have been smitten.

Of course, given what I know now, I would have probably been a bad influence.

Bikini Kill – Jigsaw Youth

Fishbone – Fight The Youth

Moonpools & Caterpillars – Colossal Youth

Polara – Scorched Youth Policy