POEM: Get Over It, Kids!
Get over it, kids. Chill. You know deep in your heart
that Donald John is right. Instead of skipping school
Fridays to protest whatever, go to a movie with a pal,
share a tub of popcorn, maybe try your luck in the dark,
if you know what I mean. And, hey, what’s so wrong
with the way things are? Consider the air and water,
both of which DJ tells us are cleaner than ever before.
And think of it: if planet Earth is, in fact, warming
faster than ever, as some say, what’s wrong with that?
Only kids like you who have never paid a heating bill
would object to a warmer winter. Time to get real!
Time to stop protesting because Where Will It Get You?
I’ll tell you where: the county jail. And who’ll have to
pay to get you out on bail? Your daddy. Good old dad.
Who will run out of patience one fine day and decide
to leave you in the clink until you’ve figured out that you,
and all you kids, would be better off if you just, like,
Fall in Line, Obey the Law, Keep Your Nose Clean, until,
having completed the molding process of public school
(pledging Allegiance and so on), you set out to seek
your place within the structure of a corporation, eager
to prove that you can outperform a cyborg, or a robot —
call it what you will. Starting humbly, Find Your Slot,
Improve Your Lot. Start out at the checkout counter,
the way Jeff Bezos did, then rising up until — guess who’s
the richest man on the planet? Bottom line: Don’t whine.
Wise up. Get real. Find your place in the assembly line.
Become accustomed to life as it is. Become one of us.