The Unorganized

I see my fellow citizens in the death grip of a powerful force: a cultural fad, bizarre and unsavory. I see a powerful international enterprise exploiting at least half the population of my city with this insanity, preying on those who don't seem to be capable of helping themselves. Is it just for the money? Or is there no end to such an entity's insatiable lust for power?

My love-hate relationship with New West City has always been very fragile-as delicate as those little hairs on a fly's legs. But now I'm feeling protective. In spite of its reputation as a city full of weak-minded trendy nitwits, New West City didn't deserve this. The scourge has made its way into almost every corner of New West society. And now the entire country seems to be on the brink of falling victim to the madness. It seems impossible for those caught up in the insanity to see their way clear of it. Such is the weakness being exploited by the mysterious group running this whole freak show.

All these people involved. Small-timers. Elites. People on the fringes of society. Movers and shakers, butchers and bakers. The sheer number makes my mind spin round like a roulette wheel (except that the colors in my mind are far more interesting). Fighting such an entrenched grotesque phenomenon is not something for the squeamish. I've seen it all. That's what I've thought several times. Then something new and unexpected shows up to re-rattle my nut. It surprises me that people who are involved with this distasteful stuff will, on the other hand, return a bowl of split pea soup to the restaurant kitchen because there's a hair in it. Go figure.

I was fairly content to live somewhere besides New West City, but now it seems I've been forced to become involved with their foible-rich problems. This ridiculous trend has touched my own family and my friends and my job. Fate has stepped in and dealt me a dog-eared hand using a marked deck with sticky cards. Going against such odds and facing such formidable foes, I hope I am able to maintain my own mentallic mind juices instead of becoming just another casualty in this devolution of our society.

But what can I, one simple mortal human being, do about it? I don't know, but when I start digging, the sky's the limit.

-Ed Zennick

In today's world everyone is a writer. Graham Glass is one of them.