Tuesday, 23 March 2004
 Residents of Montrose, Ohio were attracted like moths this last week to the rural town’s first spotlight ever. Seeing circles of light in the virgin sky, the townsfolk flocked to the location of the spotlight, only to be disappointed by its use as a self-referential advertisement.
Of course, it wasn’t an easy path for all to take. Due to the incredibly low literacy rate of the town, and an education system most likened to a broken beer bottle on a grassy curb, many residents were lost in the night. One man was found two days later by law enforcement in a corn field, trying to pop raw corn into tasty popcorn with the heat of his armpits. Officials took him in, but couldn’t contact his family because they didn’t own a phone.
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A creepy, local blacksmith apprentice rejoices at the spotlight's detached presence |
For those who were skilled enough in geometry to find the spot-beam’s epicenter—the spotlight itself—expectations were high. “I dun’t know what it coulda been,” remarked Billy-Grant Krenchaw, a local blacksmith. “I just saw the light and, you know, had to find out what it was. It coulda been a celebrity, which woulda been fine ‘cept they’re all aliens.” His apprentice followed with him and only smiled creepily into reporters’ faces.
Susie Quebreene, a mother of sixteen, followed the spotlight's towering beam in her minivan entourage: “Me and the kids were packing it down at the Ponderosa all-you-can-eat when we saw this glowing thing in the sky. Now, whoever tells you they wouldn’t let their kids see something like that must be demonic. It was a sign from God. Or, failing that, a new Denny’s.”
Expectations foundered, however, when residents discovered that the spotlight neither marked a message from God nor the arrival of intelligent, benevolent beings from the Alpha-arm of the Milky Way Galaxy. It didn’t even advertise Denny’s, or a sale, or even 10% off flapjacks at Jill’s Inn and Bar. No, this spotlight was different. It advertised instead the self-referential spotlight industry.
The spotlight’s owner, Jackie Flannigan, who came to the town from New York City, prided herself on educating the masses of Montrose: “I’d like to think I’m introducing them to a whole new marketing strategy they may have not been exposed to before. You know, if an aspiring internet-Starbuck’s café owner or gallery artist wants to get a head start on getting a customer base. How else will they do it without spotlights?” Flannigan then remembered an appointment she’d made with executives at Google.com and entered it into her palm pilot.
Ignoring the fact that the Montrose economy consists entirely of a horse-shoe shop, a bar, and a boondocks Walmart with buck-toothed greeters, many marketing gurus applaud Flannigan’s ambition. For residents arriving at a spotlight promising something much more plausible, however, the spotlight took away precious time from having unprotected sex.
Enjoying an initial success of twenty-some slack-jawed yokels slacking their jaws even more in awe, the spotlight’s buzz soon waned as visceral desires drew the town’s denizens away. Realizing the missed opportunity to bear another child, Quebreene added “God damnit!”
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Godot, what's up yo?
Written by Guest on 2004-03-27 15:01:07
That spotlight is super-sweet.
George Lazenby, On My Majestic Secret Service. Always |
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