I honestly don't know what I was thinking. This isn't even half-finished.
The Flying-Car Manifesto
By Nico O’Dugan
Everyday I wake up, the same as every man. I push up my eyelids and karate chop my alarm clock, same as every man (who’s ever watched a Bruce Lee flick).Like everyman I take a shower before I trudge out into the streets and somehow, fighting traffic, fighting other desperate souls, manage to make it to work with just enough time to catch my boss tapping his wrist, sipping coffee from his Dilbert mug. I do my job with the same lackluster abandon that every man does. But why this malaise? Why is there such despair and angst among the faces of my common man? The economy is doing well. We’re less close to death these days than during any period during the cold war. Sure the government has made a few mistakes, but when at any point in history was that every any different?
I have found the answer to cancerous atmosphere that eats away at our souls. It lays in the skies, or more to the point, it should lay in the skies. What is this mystical answer to our cosmic problem? The single cowbell prescription to your ceaseless fever? Flying cars. Yes, flying cars are the cause of man’s present situations. Promised to us since the dawn of the industrial age, flying cars have been the dreams, the hope, the single purpose of life for many, many of mankind. My grandfather dreamed in anticipation of the day when he might chopper to work in his brand new GM Flying Car. My father did the same. I….I can only continue this follied dreaming, though I know hope is all but lost.
By Nico O’Dugan
Everyday I wake up, the same as every man. I push up my eyelids and karate chop my alarm clock, same as every man (who’s ever watched a Bruce Lee flick).Like everyman I take a shower before I trudge out into the streets and somehow, fighting traffic, fighting other desperate souls, manage to make it to work with just enough time to catch my boss tapping his wrist, sipping coffee from his Dilbert mug. I do my job with the same lackluster abandon that every man does. But why this malaise? Why is there such despair and angst among the faces of my common man? The economy is doing well. We’re less close to death these days than during any period during the cold war. Sure the government has made a few mistakes, but when at any point in history was that every any different?
I have found the answer to cancerous atmosphere that eats away at our souls. It lays in the skies, or more to the point, it should lay in the skies. What is this mystical answer to our cosmic problem? The single cowbell prescription to your ceaseless fever? Flying cars. Yes, flying cars are the cause of man’s present situations. Promised to us since the dawn of the industrial age, flying cars have been the dreams, the hope, the single purpose of life for many, many of mankind. My grandfather dreamed in anticipation of the day when he might chopper to work in his brand new GM Flying Car. My father did the same. I….I can only continue this follied dreaming, though I know hope is all but lost.