The sprawl is the thing that grabs your attention.
The people are similar enough, stuffing their faces with saturated trans-fats and simulated animal-fats and polyunsaturated justforthehellofit-fats. They berate their oafish little brats with the same veracious candour, at once loving and loathing the slowly decaying fruits of their loins. They sit in front of their glowing boxes just like the soot-breathers; tapping at speed with oversized digits on keyboards and remotes and any kind of button able to zap away this awfully persistent void that resides somewhere deep in the guts (Tucked away, I do believe, next to a faded sense of self, and that gnawing feeling of guilt about mother).
Over-consumption? Check. Contempt for those closest to ones heart? Check. Irrational fear of change? You betcha sweet ass. Yes, everything appears to be in order from the outside.
So, what's the problem?
It's the sprawl you fool! Don't you see it?
Outward!
In bold, exclamation. That seems to be the mantra here, the inhabitants no longer even certain why the expansion started in the first place, but damned if they're going to be interrupted mid-coitus! No sir, stop we will not! Why should we? Sherlene and I have every right - nay - deserve to own a pool, and an air-conditioner, and a plasma screen and 2 cars and a fridge the size of a harpooned minke whale! (it was them Japs). When I have traversed halfway across the state, tuned-in and turned-off to Prime-Time Drive-Home FM, at the end of my 9-5, all I ask of this life is to be able to stretch out - really strreeeetcccchhhhh it all out. I want to relax, ignore my wife and children to the best of my ability, and crack open a stubby chilled to perfection in a fridge larger than the icebergs melting in Greenland. I want to watch 'Dancing with the Andy Warholettes', silently contemplating whether Suzy from Accounting is as easy as she looks, drowning my sorrows with half a Sara-Lee cheesecake removed from a fridge 3 times larger than the hole in the Ozone-layer (does anyone care about the hole anymore?).
These days, upwards is boring. We have done that. Tallest building? Who cares. It takes me 3 mins to reach my bathroom from my bedroom - and that's the en suite. I know I have truly succeeded when I must squint to make out (not make out with - don't be disgusting) my wife from one end of the kitchen counter to the next. And the ineffable joy that comes from being able to hide from little Tristan and Kylie for weeks on end - all the while residing under the same roof - priceless!
Yes, my friends; The Sprawl is truly something to admire (although only really safe from the vantage point of your McMansion).
