Dear Mr. Fargo,
I am working really hard so that someday I will have time to be creative and play my flute as much as I want. That is my dream. The problem is I decided to take a job at Taco Bell to make ends meet. And now I haven’t been able to get in any music lately.
I also don’t feel very creative because I smell like a taco. Plus, it’s hard for me to get inspired wearing this silly clown uniform. I have to burn incense all the time because I have stomach problems. I feel like I am going to turn into a bean burrito!!!
Will, do you think I will lose my creativity? Should I quit this job, live poor, and maybe homeless, for the sake of my music?
Signed,
Love to Toot… in Berkeley
Dear Love to Toot… in Berkeley,
Listen very carefully to me, Berkeley; the very survival of your soul depends on it! This business of you turning into a bean burrito is no laughing matter. If you ever want to play the flute again, you’d better do exactly as I say.
Take that clown suit off right now and smear hot sauce all over your body and start dancing wildly and playing the most passionate flute music you can! If you don’t do this I guarantee your worst nightmares of turning into that which you truly despise will come true!
You will turn into a Taco Bell soldier with a bean burrito brain and before you know it you’ll be goose stepping to the beat of the ratcheting sales statistics for tacos, tostadas, enchiritos, and God forbid… that twisted product of corporate fast food cross breeding… the abominable Mexican Pizza!
My God, have these biogenetic scientists no shame? Where does it end, Berkeley?!
You need to stop everything you’re doing right now and whip up a mad frenzy of unbridled Dionysian energy that will channel all your creativity into one powerful vortex and snuff out the evil force that is threatening to obscure your very essence as a human being!
If you don’t follow my advice right now, Berkeley, I guarantee that tomorrow you will be applying for an assistant manager position and all your friends will watch the real you slowly start fading off into the distance until you’re nothing but a little speck of soul dust sharing a park bench on Tralfamador with that poor little snow sled called Rosebud.
This battle is an ancient one and you’re finding yourself on the frontline as we speak, Berkeley! And whether you like it or not…it’s now your turn to…I hate to put it this way but this is war, Berkeley! It’s an eternal conflict that has never ended and that never will end! It’s an inner struggle that you must endure in order to survive!
Call it a blessing or call it a curse, the choice is yours. But the fact is, you are an artist, Berkeley! And therefore a foot soldier in the army of the super-sensitive soul! And it’s now your turn to… kill or be killed!
Ask yourself, Berkeley…are you the Borg or are you Pan? Are you the prosecution or the defense? The red sauce or the green sauce? You need to make your choice, Berkeley! No one else will make it for you!
Oh sure, you may occasionally see a tempting two for 99 cent ad that makes you think you can play the game and beat the system at the same time, but don’t you believe it, Berkeley! It’s nothing but shameless bait-and-switch corporate seduction!
The Great Manipulators are all plotting together every day, usually right after lunch, with their stupid PowerPoint presentations and high-backed conference room chairs.
Their sole mission is to draw you in and suck every creative impulse out of you until you’re nothing but a zombie taco stuffer who knows nothing about anything except what a perfect pinch of shredded cheese is!
Or maybe that’s what you want? Do you want shredded cheese to be the perfect symbol of what you become in life? Well then, go turn on the TV and start vegging out now, Berkeley, so you can relax and be ready to make tacos in the morning. You may even decide to have one or two for breakfast!
And then, before you know it, the only tooting you’ll be doing is… oh, I can’t go there, Berkeley, it’s just too damn depressing. I don’t think that’s the kind of music the muses had in mind, although if I remember right my uncle Mitch could be surprisingly tuneful when I was a kid.
Alright, that’s it, Berkeley, now we’re going places I never wanted to go! You gotta beat this thing! I’d be far more worried about your spirit becoming poor and homeless at this point. You’d better take my advice, Berkeley! Or soon your poor flute will become nothing but a very well used and desperately needed incense burner!
And as for you? Don’t let it happen, Berkeley! Don’t let yourself become…God forbid I even think it…just another brick in the wall!!
Will…I WILL GO FAR!!!…Fargo
