M is for Magic
I don’t believe in magic. I don’t believe in fairies or fairy godmothers or genies in a bottle or leprechauns. There is no Tinker bell or pixie dust. There is no Wizard of Oz. Most of all there is no Glenda the Good Witch or ruby slippers. You can’t wish on four leaf clovers or falling stars or one head lighted VW beetles. A wishbone at Thanksgiving is just part of a turkey carcass.
I always thought fairy tales were sappy and somewhere, deep down….I knew they were lies. It is an elaborate confidence game. You can have all your heart’s desire if you just wish hard enough, right? Wish hard, little girl. Squeeze your eyes closed tight and believe. Believe! Talk about entitlement programming. When the dreams don’t come true, somehow it is because you didn’t wish true or some evil villain cheated you. No one fesses up and admits there is no magic. The storytellers will be happy if you just keep believing that you’ve been treated unfairly.Pay attention people! They are STORYTELLERS. What did momma always ask? “Are you telling me a story?” Translation: Are you lying?
Dreams are just that: dreams, figments of our subconsciousness. There is no sleeping beauty and there is no prince charming. There is no Howe’s Moving Castle. I dislike magicians and their ridiculous illusions. Vanishing coins and the transfiguration of singles to twenties is just slight of hand. And losing at three shell monty is a two fold loss, you’re a sucker for playing and especially for playing twice. I don’t mean to sound like such a downer but the sooner this fantasy dreamboat runs aground the sooner you can get your head out of the top hat and do your real work. You make your world on your own. Magic ain’t got nothing to do about it.
