Temporary Insanity Because of Monahan
Reporter goes insane after reading Monahan blog
ABQ a Dantesque Inferno!
Hopelessness to the Umpteenth Power!
The sight sickened and horrified me and made me want to weep uncontrollably. A young mother and her two young children were at an Albuquerque park this morning, playing on the playground equipment and laughing.
There were others in the park, too. Kids playing catch, men and women jogging, people walking their dogs and people sitting on benches. Everyone appeared to be having a good time, which sent me into an internal rage. It was obvious that every single one of them was ignorant of the fact that their lives, and the lives of their children and dogs were in immediate and catastrophic danger.
They were oblivious to the fact that there were living in Albuquerque, a city that has turned a Dantesque Inferno and that they were doomed to be shot, raped, robbed murdered and maybe even criticized.
There was no hope, and they didn't know it.
I hadn't realized the despairing and hopeless wasteland that Albuquerque had become until yesterday, when blogger Joe Monahan told us how horrible it really was.
I had still been hopeful about Albuquerque and willing to give new Mayor Tim Keller a chance to fix things, especially the rising crime wave, until I read Monahan's column. I mean, I've gone about my daily life just like these silly people have, failing to understand that thugs are after me every second of every day.
Realizing that Monahan knows everything and that his words are absolute gospel, I raced up to the young mother and her children and screamed some lines from Monahan's blog at them.
“The crushing crime wave has been so brutal and desensitizing,” I screamed at her and the kids, “that to insulate themselves the upper strata of city society has enveloped itself in a defensive shroud, as it watches the ghoulish and often unbearable events unfold day after day. Compared to the relatively innocuous past it is a Dantesque Inferno that they not only don't recognize but can't bear to confront.”
The mother was clearly terrified at my words and immediately grabbed her children and started running away from me while sheltering her kids and dialing her cell phone. I raced after them and shouted some more gospel-like words from Monahan's blog.
“It's a community now glued together ever more tightly as the pie shrinks and the seemingly insoluble social dilemma here widens. It's a community that rushes to reinforce what's good about the city but has few, if any members, who break ranks and lead a call for action on what's not so good--or actually awful. That approach defined the long 8 years of Mayor Berry who came from that community and who arguably presided over the worst years in the city's modern history.”
The woman and the kids ran faster and I chased them while screaming, “That's right, run home, lock the doors and don't ever leave the house again – not for anything! It's hopeless to the umpteenth and you and the kids are doomed! So is your husband, your mother and father, the in-laws, your bosses - everyone and everything.”
I raced around the park and screamed at everyone there that they were living in a Dantesque Inferno and city leaders were paralyzed as they watched ghoulish and unbearable events unfold every day. I shouted that they were fools, fools for even walking outside to get the mail. “It's a Dantesque Inferno!” I screamed over and over and over. “You are putting your lives at risk by being in this park on a sunny morning and failing to understand that there are unbearable and ghoulish events occurring every day here! Run away! Hide! The cops can't protect you! Don't call them, they'll never respond. The thugs and gangsters have won. Albuquerque is doomed and will soon be abandoned. That's right, abandoned!”
I could tell that everyone I screamed at didn't understand the enormity of the danger they and their families were in. Rather than engaging me in conversation about the subject so I could spew more of Monahan's words, they walked or ran away and started dialing their cell phones.
Finally, one guy who I think was about 80 and who couldn't run, asked what I was talking about.
“Joe Monahan,” I shouted. “In his blog yesterday said Albuquerque has turned into a Dantesque Inferno! A Dantesque Inferno! Do you feel the soul-incinerating heat?”
“Well, it is supposed to get to 80 degrees today. That's kind of hot for April,” the oldster replied.
“No!” I shouted while stomping my feet and wagging a finger in his face. “Ghoulish and unbearable events are unfolding every day. We're in a Dantesque Inferno! Joe Monahan said so! Stop being oblivious. You must be afraid! You must be afraid every single moment of your life! Put an immediate end to your daily routine, stop pretending that things are OK and that you're not under constant siege. Stop living your life!”
The geezer told me that he had been in combat in World War II and that as far as he was concerned, as long as no one was shooting at him and trying to kill him, life was wonderful.”
“But,” I screamed. “Someone will be shooting at you any second now!”
“I've been coming to this park for more than 40 years now, and I haven't been shot at once, not even mugged. It's not as if there's a constant and unending train of cars shooting up the park every day. Why are you panicking?” he asked.
“Because Joe Monahan said we're living in a Dantesque Inferno!” I shouted back, thinking that if I screamed louder my point would get into his thick skull.
When I had finished another impassioned plea that he stop being cheerful, confident and optimistic, the old guy asked:
“Who the hell is Joe Monahan? I've never heard of him. He sounds like a goof. An out-of-touch hysterical goof. Does he ever leave his house, or does he just sit at the kitchen table brooding all day?”
Right then, about six cop cars showed up and the officers got out and walked quickly towards us. The idiots I had been trying to warn of their impeding dooms had called on me. The cops were ready to take me away when the old man explained the situation.
“He read some news media idiot who's way out of touch with reality, who hangs out only with media types and politicians - never regular people - and who doesn't know what he's talking about and took it seriously,” the oldster told the cops. “I'd call it temporary insanity caused by Joe Monahan.”
One of the cops, a sergeant, said he understood and would give me a pass if I promised to never again read Joe Monahan, because if I did, I would go permanently insane. In parting he asked, “By the way, who the hell is Joe Monahan? I've never heard of him.”
I looked at the old man, who smiled and winked at me, and then mumbled sheepishly to the cop:
“A goof. Just another out-of-touch, hysterical media goof.”
