that's a fine kettle of fish

didn't think about what would happen 45 years down the road if unforeseen eco or psycho or technological circumstances forced me and my animal to spend several unstructured days in a small town obsessed with bugs bunny copyright battles, to the point of almost feeling cultish, what with all of the statues, portraits, t-shirts, reruns, carrots, high-fives, in-jokes, and snickering. according to a flyer posted outside of the shelter, robert goulet became the epitome of all that constituted pure entertainment until he was eclipsed by that infamous "crunch all you want, we'll make more" ad campaign by dorito's, coming at the precise moment when the global flow of raw corn became what ag theorists called 'a vast golden river.' other concerns such as dark matter, dark ages, dark horses, data processing, dna, ragu sauces, cola water, and the famous icebergs of the world are viewed as diminishing returns ride again. this is what can happen if small towns lose their original vision! the pioneering spirit morphs into the patience of job. the birth of venus is not painted and creative media loses another dependable touchstone. taoist precepts are ridiculed until li po appears in a vision and tells the anti-copyright warriors that they better start talking turkey or else. bugs goes on to stress the importance of the vanishing point and says that he doesn't care about the all-time high score in asteroids, galaga, moon patrol, caterpillar, or tron. we wish that he did but in this case our wishes could mean almost anything: the straw mattress that k was told to fetch down from the attic, wave-particle consciousness, we are such stuff nightmares are made on, fda recommended daily allowances, that's a fine kettle of fish, bo-peep, by their fruits ye shall savor them, megawattage undetermined, megaplex under construction on the village green where bugs used to hammer everything out