The Town Painted Red

Part 18 of 30

There's Death In Them Thar Drawers

By now we’re sharing at the heart level, you and I, as we've joined forces against an overly-sexualized society. I know I’m completely worked up, my boldness enlarged, beet red, engorged by the confidence I have in your alliance, you with me. And how many of you I’ve heard from, so willing -- bending over backwards -- to join in intimately, whether it's whetting knives, swords, blades of every form; then rallying men, women, loved ones, hated ones in common cause; then to charge forward with a battle cry for the ages, the rancor in our bones, the rancor in our marrow; all of us as one by now so stoved up that to merely lance the thing is to make it spew.

Let me put before you another reminder of the outrage around us being perpetrated on a daily basis. Right there it is in full view, such profligacy, such wild abandon, the shamelessness of it all! It gives me pause. Let us take it in and clear our heads. Lean out the window and catch our breath and try to comprehend what horrible force has been loosed, what this reckless swinging from building to building means, people with paintbrush in hand, buckets of red paint, and fearlessness, a unknown boldness that drives wanton men and women to expose themselves in every way. This is nothing to mess with.

“Painting the Town Red.” Of course I’ve heard that phrase a few times, but in my sheltered life I never really thought it through. Somehow we’ve all absorbed the phrase without fully taking it within ourselves as serious. Red’s a nice color, we might think. Honestly it’s one of my favorite colors. Red, green, blue, yellow … just some of the colors I can list off the top of my head. Dig a little deeper and there’s purple, lavender, chartreuse, caucasian, afro, blonde, black, curly, straight, cheese, toast, in a nutshell the entire rainbow and more.

Red, though, is the color where none is the number. Denoting that all restraints, all limitations are exceeded or surpassed. The number none means no boundary is sacrosanct, no consequences are worth considering in surpassing or bypassing them. The man, at least symbolically, swings from landmark to landmark in the Big City, his paint brush a’wash with red in thick coat, obscuring or replacing the tamer colors of tamer society. Meaning the most carnal behavior is now the norm. And, yes, There Is Death In Them Thar Drawers and, you know what? Only few of us care. That guy doesn’t care, he’s simply pissed away all concern, and as the red flows freely, prepares himself (society itself) to bring society and the whole social pact down.

Well, I for one do object. Is there anyone, just one witness, to agree with my lone voice of revulsion and shame? Hearing none, we're done for the day.