Henny Penny the sky is falling!
Bad news at every corner. Floors need mopping, that’s enough bad news today and on top of that, peanut butter’s gone missing from the cupboard again — whatever can one do.
Wealth and greed, greed and wealth stroll hand in hand wherever they are strolling and everyone’s trying to grab the hand of the last one going by.
How much sugar is in peanut butter? How much in the muffin it’s on?
If sugar is like cocaine, is there cocaine in the muffin?
Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.
There were five of them in a little copper-colored Beetle Bug, driving to see a movie. Three little girls around nine years old, were sitting in the back. The girls in the front were nine years older and chatting away about boys — they had candy and cans of soda in their giant grown-up purses and, of course, one of the older girls was driving. They had pullover sweaters and pageboy hairdos and pants with permanent, stitched-in creases that had straps to stretch the pants to hold them at their feet. They were so pretty decked out in the latest style and seemed to have all the answers — boys fixed everything.
Or was it a spoon full of sugar, one or the other or both?
It was just a year or two before the movie that their Chicken Little mothers had all been pulling out their hair, running around in circles and screaming, the sky was about to fall. Everyone was ducking for cover just in case it did.
A crisis with some missiles. Didn’t a boy fix that?
A few hundred days after that boy fixed that crisis, the sky stopped falling and Mary Poppins fell from it. Everything was better now — it was time to laugh and sing.
La la la la la la!
Hundreds and hundreds of days would go by, the sky would fall up and the sky would fall down and then Mary would fall again, after newer Beetle Bugs.
And the three little girls grew up.
Down every highway in the world where money can be made, Beetle Bugs and Mary go round and round in circles working to sell the gas that fuels the greed. Greed and wealth, wealth and greed. They are linked together always with lots of people hanging on or ducking for cover.
Whatever can be sold. Truth but mostly lies and mostly cars and gas and guns and metal things.
Who cares about Donald Duck Lips, Nigel or whether or who should exit? Who cares if the sky is falling? It’s always better to dance — the sky will always fall and boys and girls hold hands.
Trying to fix anything with voting, mopping or candy only ever works as long as until you are holding hands with someone special. Then everything’s alright.
Holding hands with greed, wealth or cocaine — they are kin to mopping floors — dirty again in no time.
Sugar, spice and all things nice, is what girls of the 60s were made of and boys weren’t the only ones driving copper-colored Beetles.