Container People

Will somebody please tell me what the hell's going on with Container People?

Container People.

As in, "Let's go get inside the container and close the door behind us."

You know the type. Generally got a pasty soft white look about them. Heavily into clothing, jewelry, make up, whatever. Lotsa times they're also into the money deal. Not necessarily Republicans or anything, but that seems to help, nonetheless.

Outside, the sun is screaming down from a cerulean sky, birds are warbling, beautiful people are strolling by along the beach sand, and the world is smiling benignly upon all that inhabit it.

"Hey, whatta ya say we get a movie and then we can sit here and watch it?"

And so, from the large immobile container, they briefly pass through the beauty of the outdoors like shades from the netherworld, and as quickly as possible, enter the small mobile container, crank the air, crank the radio, crank the motor, and crank their sorry asses down to the movie container.

Quick exit from mobile container, into a different large immobile container.

Meanwhile, down at the shoreline, a gorgeous blonde is giving me the full cleavage shot with a winsome smile, as she doodles her toe in the sand.

Ok.

Exit the large immobile container, with a movie that's nestled inside it's own small flat rigid rectangular container, which is further encased inside of a somewhat larger loose floppy container made of very thin plastic.

Reenter the small mobile container. Be sure to close that door tight behind you, ok?

Back to the first large fixed container.

Quickly jump from the mobile container, back indoors, avoiding the daylight, ignoring the birds, and just generally attempting to isolate yourself as much as possible from all of that great, frightening, uncontained, out there. Close the door and lock the motherfucker.

Remove the goddamned movie from its cocoons, and then immediatly place it inside of its fucking player container and sit down on the expensive couch and watch some kinda bogus Hollywood version of what's going on outside, fer chrissakes! Ahh, life is good.

Meanwhile number two, down on the beach, the blonde has twisted her torso in just the right way to give me a nice look at a left nipple, and she's saying, "Why yes, I sure would like a cold beer."

The sun continues to blaze down on all beneath it.

Birds fly by and tiny waves hiss to their deaths upon the wet sand.

Ok.

Fine.

Whatever.

Stay inside of your fucked up container.

Suits the hell out of me.