aristocracy, abercrombie, and aryans

August 26, 2007 at 9:08 pm Leave a comment

martha’s vineyard. the name of this island conjures up images of secret service agents, helicopters, and important world-changing decisions. i dont know what an image of such a decision would look like, but nonetheless, it makes perfect sense in my head.

on this island, you drive up to your summer home in your cleanly washed range rover or mercedez. out of the driveway, into the kitchen with sleek zinc fixtures, where you get a perrier out of your refrigerator and carelessly sip away.

on this island, you will get shunned and maybe lynched by your neighbors if the front of your home isn’t adorned with a american flag at least as big as jupiter. they will call you a communist and add a “-ovich” to your last name for good measure. you must own a medium sized dog that will fetch balls for you and you must name it “lucky.”

the only asians on the island are females that are romantically involved to tall guys who wear khakis, polo shirts, and have sweaters tied around their necks. the only blacks on the island stand behind counters, serving the white guys and their asian girlfriends at restaurants, shops, and hotels. there are no indians on the island because indians are smart and cant be bothered to go places where they know they wont fit in.

what a confusing weekend it was. i was simultaneously repulsed and attracted by the lifestyle i observed. the whole island is a shrine to aristocracy, abercrombie, and aryans. i hate how the elite in our society get tables quickly at restaurants while everybody else is left to queue up at the door. pretty white girls get bigger scoops of ice cream than short asian girls, to the dismay of my sister.

there is a burning curiosity in me when i see this happen. how did they get to be rich and important? do they have some u.s. president as their great great grandfather? were they born into money somehow? did they go to yale, get a degree, and work hard so they could buy their summer cottage? undoubtedly, families like these pick and choose their childrens’ marriages very carefully; my son will only marry a wife who will breed genetically superior children that can play rugby, polo, and fly fighter jets.

a small but potent part of me wishes that i could be part of all this heritage, money, and importance. i like fancy kitchens, dogs, asian girls, and ice cream. i dislike queues, losing in football, and near sightedness.

ive been taught to look towards the eternal, to lasting joy, and stuff that sounds metaphysical like that. but it is seriously difficult to do that at a place such as marthas vineyard. so from now on, i will only go on holiday to places where children eat old shovels for supper and the general populus is preoccupied with avoiding torture from their governments to talk about repainting their white picket fences.

malnourishment will be quite the handicap when they play me in football.

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Entry filed under: commentary, life, musings. Tags: .

Metaphor our future

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