Burner Jordan da Cat has written a very clever poem, inspired by Dr Seuss’ “Oh, the Places You’ll Go” and the forth-coming Simpsons episode. The creativity of Burners is impressive and encouraging; meanwhile, BMOrg’s continued silence in the face of mounting community outrage is very, very disappointing.
By Jordan da Cat:
Dear Burning Man,
Congratulations!
Today is your pay day!
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
You have cash in your pocket.
Smelly feet in your fuzzy boots.
You can sell your corporate logo in any direction you choose.
You’re no longer on your own.
It’s not what you know, but who you blow.
And YOU are the corporate whore, who will take all the dough.
With our heads full of drugs and our guts full of beer, we’re not smart enough to think for ourselves, oh dear.
Most of us have no reason to frown.
We’ll drop a ton of cash and come to your town.
It’s easier there, without an ounce of care
About the real world and what goes on there.
Out there, magical things can happen and frequently do, to people who may not be as greedy as you.
And as you sell out, don’t worry. Don’t lose sleep. We will will follow you, like a lemming or sheep.
Oh! The Places You’ll Go
Oh, the people you’ll screw
Oh, the money you’ll make
Oh, the media you’ll sell out to.
Oh! The Places You’ll Go
The corporations you’ll blow
Oh, the money you’ll claim
Have you no shame?
You’ll be on your way up! To the East Side!
To a deluxe apartment, in the sky-hi-hi!
You’ll be rolling in cash and seeing great sights!
You’ll rip us all off, like a thief in the night.
You’ll leave us behind, you’ve become the machine.
You’ll rub elbows with the rich, and make millions, umpteen.
You’ll soon take the lead, and forget about the rest.
More mainstream will congest and infest.
A douchefest of headdress and Robosluts undressed.
For no other reason than to show off their breasts.
I must confess, I’m not impressed, and a little depressed.
Might I suggest that you divest and bequest to the rest
Of us … The Burners! Blessed and oppressed.
No … I should have known, should have guessed
Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don’t.
Because, sometimes, you won’t.
Oh, who am I kidding, they’ll just keep bidding
For your soul, which you will sell.
Alas, farewell, and burn in hell.
I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true
You’ve sold your soul, and no one has a clue.
You only care about money, not the people you’ll screw.
So enjoy the view,
From high up on your perch.
While we worship your logo, like an idol in church.
You’ll come down from the perch without even a bump.
Your landing softened by your wallet, oh so plump
With my money, which I guess makes me the chump.
We’ll continue to come, without a second thought.
Most of us don’t care, that you’ve been purchased and bought.
We’ll come to your city where the streets are not marked.
And worship the Man, as soon as he’s sparked.
Do we dare stay out?
Do we dare go in?
How much should we lose,
So that you can win?
Of course, it’s just my opinion, formed from within.
And if we go in, should we turn left or right?
Is it even safe anymore? Especially at night?
Or go around back and sneak in from behind?
Maybe ask those corporate elites, you wined and dined?
Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find
For a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
Luckily for you, we are blind, and our minds confined
To the 10 Principles you’ve defined.
What was once a magical space
I fear is headed toward a most mainstream place.
Farewell “Leave no Trace”
Sigh, what a disgrace.
Oh, the masses will flock, and the douchebags’ shirt-cocks
To worship your effigy, that stands on a box.
While you profit from free labor and sell out to Fox.
Oh! The Places You’ll Go
Oh, the people you’ll screw
Oh, the money you’ll make
Oh, the media you’ll sell out to.
Oh, the places you’ll go!
There’s money to be made!
There are points to score!
You’re going to get paid!
So go act like a whore!
And continue the charade!
Fame!
You’ll be as famous as famous can be!
And soon everyone will be watching, on Live TV!
Except when they don’t.
Because, sometimes, they won’t.
Oh, who am I joking, they’ll just keep paying!
Smoking and toking, for a week they’ll be staying.
I’m afraid that sometimes you’ll play games
While we standby oblivious, mesmerized by flames.
Like long lines, favoritism and ticket prices.
As you carve up your pie and sell it in slices.
But on you will go, even when the weather be foul.
I’m pretty fucking moist right about now, can someone hand me a towel?
No one will challenge your curious mystique,
You’re just too cool, too hip, too chic.
You won’t hear us speak, not even a squeak.
We just want to party our faces off for a week.
On and on you will hike.
While I trick out my bike.
And continue to like
Watching your profits spike.
Yikes.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent profits, guaranteed.)
We’ll move mountains to get there!
As you cater to the billionaire.
So…be our name Homer, or Bart or the one with big hair,
I call out to all Burners, of the Borg beware!
Today is your day!
Your pile of cash is waiting.
The Borg hath spoken, no use in debating!
Bow down to the 10 Commandments, stop your hating!
Burners!
Your money, start saving!
If you want to be in the desert, misbehaving and raving!
Oh the lights and the music and the drugs you’ll be craving!
My apologies for the digression,
But I don’t understand this recent obsession
To sell out and profit with no discretion.
While the world so full of injustice, oppression
It seems the Borg is taking full possession
I’m afraid we’re in for some real regression.
Despite my rant, I do have a confession
And hope I haven’t left the wrong impression,
I still love Burning Man and Decompression,
But if you have a problem with any of this,
Fuck off bitch, Radical Self Expression. 🙂
