Skeletons to the Right

I guess the closet is full.

The floundering economy has necessitated cutbacks that, already, have taken the dignity away from Great American Traditions such as Skeleton Return. Pretty soon we'll see Skeleton Reform, and after that, you'll just see despondent Bags o' Bone sitting in the park, drinking they Deuce Deuce, steam rising off their skulls in brassy, reedy fog. In any event, Skeletons are at their boniest since the Great Depression, when New Deal Skeletons were more calcified than a nice big cuppa Dustbowl. Postmodern Skeletons, on the other hand, Extrapolate, in that, they practice corporeal punishment with their little ones. They conflate and intertextualize. If they rebate, then they masturbate twice. One can bait his breath, if he means to trick his respirations. The Skeleton, however, means to trick his expirations. To whit, the Skeleton can achieve separation, should he become disconnected from his expiration, but that's a ghost story -- the Skeleton bouncing down dark alleyways, with his expiration in pursuit. Sometimes, a Special Officer, i.e., one who can demonstrate either a pulse or an I.Q., is called in, to corral said Skeleton, kick him around, and reunite him, all so vividly, with his expiration. We are Structure, and we are Weakening. If we scream "Jackass!", do we mean another, or are we identifying ourselves? We are Language and we are Debt. In that, we lease our Skeletons from the Landlord, the Earth, its doors to the right, its closets, its walkup duplex with berber carpeting and a riverview.