It's hard to say what things used to be like, before the Spiders came and made everything real. I, too, have memories of a time when summer was warm and not unbearably hot, when people had big smiles that contained some form of warmth. But that was long ago, and is probably an idealized memory of a time similar to this one, when people are things as proper people should be. Newfoundland probably was never the way I remember it, and I half suspect that...well, how DO I get to Shell Beach?
But that's not what's important. What's important is Here, Now, Bigger, Faster, Sexier. Implants to make women look like Barbie, because what little girl wants a Barbie that looks like a woman? Viagra for men, so they can remember that they're still 22 years old, and their current body is just a phantasm, a bad dream that will end any time now, and they can go back to getting hot chicks with bodies like rubber bands. That's what's important. That's what's good. Buying your love, eating your love, because love you can eat won't hurt you, and besides, it's easier to get...right down at your local supermarket.
That fat person on the couch isn't you. You're Bourne, Bond, the Desperate Housewives, Simon Cowell. All it takes is time, and you'll be rich and beautiful, too. Somehow...and the how doesn't really matter, does it? The brass ring is there to be grabbed, and all you have to do is wait for the merry go round to bring you around to it. It's only a matter of time. All you have to do is sit on that couch and wait. For God's sake, don't get up, don't touch that dial...because the ring might go by while you aren't looking, and then you'll have nobody but yourself to blame for your unfulfilled dreams.
But it sure does take a long time for the merry go round to go all the way around, and the calliope music sounds like a dirge and the other riders look almost like they're screaming in horror instead of excitement and I still can't see the brass ring yet.