Inspiration

Interpretation

“A question has come to us this morning, and we are K-A-T-Y radio o o o o o o o. It is in response to our weekly Idiosyncratic Challenge. The question asked is, what is “Déjà vu, how can it affect me, and which foreign country is responsible for infecting us with it?”

We’d appreciate only well-reasoned answers, Though the question is intriguing, it seems to cast aspersions on those who think outside of the traditional electro-magnetic field that we navigate daily.

The first answer deemed appropriate, that touches on all the major points of contention, will be awarded a dinner for two at Dirty Harry’s, the latest is single status dining. Reservations are required as the dining room is small; two tables, but only the one chair.

We here at K-A-T-Y have decided to open up, turn around or upside down the question, what does Déjà vu mean to you? Put on your thinking caps pilgrims and send us your clean answers; dirty answers will not be washed but hung out to dry.

“Vote early and often for the Déjà vu entrant of your choice. We will read entries daily or just go to our Web page and hope for the best. Remember, sanity that others can relate to, if only in their minds, may be at risk.”

That last bit was pirated from a clip from “Deranged Considerations,” a local call in radio program designed and contributed to, by those who have finally mustered the initiative to live their slogan, “Enough Is Enough, the one size fits all adaptation for the virtual you.”

I have no idea what that means, but this is be kind to competitors week.

Being that I was recently laid off from my employer, the U.S. Government, something to do with loophole discrepancies and money steam cleaning, I now have the time to pursue my dream of one day becoming an international spy disguised as a reporter; I decided to accept the challenge, not of entering the contest, but of discovering what people in my neighborhood think Déjà vu is?

Several newspapers, neither of which are worth mentioning, have had editorial pieces on the latest initiatives put forth by those living within hearing range of our new Data Center. It seemed like an appropriate place to begin investigating the claims that the newly installed “dark sky lights,” a rather oxymoronic term, approved and paid for by city management, have reduced the light pollution significantly in the city. The parking lot continues to glow like a radioactive taco, but the sky, would it not be for the pollution generated by the diesel backup generators which as promised one day will become symbols of alternative fuels, would be observable, if people only remembered to look up and not remain fixated by the iridescent footprints that appear to follow them.

The awards dinner for most creative sales pitch of 2026 will be awarded at an exclusive dinner at Dirty Harry’s. Dirty Harry’s requires reservations, but I am fortunate to have my own reservations about Dirty Harry’s, so I dispensed with the traditional approach of editing for content, and decided that if impromptu works for karaoke, it should work for what I’m planning on calling my new and improved news show, “Adult Musings Incorporated.” That concludes our local civically minded news.

I was walking toward the glow on my way to the job I no longer have, out of habit I suppose. The glow distracts from the everyday anxiety life provides and replaces it with the recognition that only shortness of breath can infuse. When your involuntary nervous system becomes indoctrinated by color incased in a humming sound that acts like a disrupter of internal purposes designed to function in the dark, we can only hope it is not too late.

I see a man standing next to what looks to be a sculpture of Venus Di Milo, my grade school forensic coach. As I approach he turns toward me with a sense of skepticism I’d not had reason to appreciate before. He points an enlarged plastic replica of what looked to be a lower intestine at me, while the statue begins waving at me in hopes of ceasing my progress; I assumed she’d been in this situation before, by the animated movements her lips were making, yet producing no sound. Not knowing how to react under the circumstances, never having been accosted by an intestine previously, large or small, I stopped immediately.

“Who goes there?” the gravelly voice breaking through the rainbow atmosphere was barely recognizable above the whining decibels that surrounded us. Another unique situation, or revisited destiny?

“What is your name… are you a citizen of the United States… can you prove it?” He just looked at me and said as nonchalantly as I’ve ever been privileged to hear, “No comprende?”

I had to take his word for it, being that I could barely make out what his sign language was attempting to tell me; the brilliant light from a foreign vision of progress was interfering with my optical interpretation of events. Everything looked as if it were in 3-dimensional technicolor, which was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but its significance was diminished by the 1000 decibel disruption, which I assumed was coming from K-A-T-Y radios new tower, that was installed by Foreign Dimensions LLC, the owner and operator of the new AI center; and I would have been wrong.

The towers purpose was reported to be the speedy dissemination of information, in case of unlikely accidental contamination from an unknown source. They apparently wanted to insure the word would be disseminated in case of an unanticipated spillage event. When I asked what spillage meant, they said they could not comment as the Disownment Committee had yet to issue their annual report. Sometimes you must laugh when denials fall from grace, not because you need to, but because you want to.

While my interviewee remained transfixed by the rainbow, I inched closer to the man and could tell immediately what I thought was a piece of swollen intestine was a Mega Water Pisto, an (MWP), which were on sale at our local farm supply store that caters to those who believe farming an admirable profession when someone else is compelled to comply with the demands necessary to receive government subsidies for crop failures. The rational being that the earths inability to provide the necessary chemical fixes to maintain our future would not be tolerated.

“What’s your name? I’m interviewing people, well just you so far, about what Déjà vu means to you, and your family of course.?” He turned to the statue at his side and asked if she’d mind interpreting, he was a little disoriented and wasn’t sure if I was real or another one of the aliens that had been visiting him of late. My signing isn’t what it used to be, so I may have missed some of what he was trying to say; I’d apologize if I only knew to who, and for what. The elevation here can distort questions and answers.

I do believe however, that he did sign that his thoughts and prayers were with me. All I could do is smile as I’ve walked that lonesome valley before with no appreciable results.

“Sir, how do you feel the newly installed progress has affected your life, and that of the community as a whole?” I wasn’t expecting an answer as he seemed to recoil at the sound of my voice, as if it was of a decibel level too low for his ears to assimilate. His statuesque wife slipped out of her headphones and asked If I’d mind repeating the question. I’m used to being ignored, so I knew what she was attempting to do.

“Has the new progress facility changed your lives in any appreciable way?” I yelled, because I found you get a better result when people are afraid of you or what you might consider asking next.”

“No comprende senor.” I took her response to mean, no. There seemed no reason to remain talking with people who obviously didn’t want to say anything to upset the status quo, but as I turned to leave I noticed a small crowd had gathered on the street. They were a strange assortment of blues, reds, and fuchsia, but being used to small town life I didn’t let it deter my zeal to uncover a truth that had become increasingly more obvious. It was being covered up by people who knew nothing about flickering lights, fans, and decibel equivalents, our city council.

I walked up to the first woman I saw and asked if she’d be willing to speak with me about the psychedelic progress that was eventually going to put the town on the map, or make it disappear.

“What map? This some kind of hidden de facto camera episode of that new POD show, “Industrialize Us?” I had no idea what she was talking about. I had recently donated my computer to a nonprofit organization to obtain a tax credit; in case I ever decided to file taxes. See what I mean about altitude?

“No, this is not about a POD show. I’ve been asking people if the newly installed progress emporium has influenced you or your family in any way?”

“Why you bringing my family into this? I ain’t never done nothing to you and hadn’t expected to, until just now.”

“So, as far as you are concerned, everything has remained the same except for the increase in short term employment, light pollution, noise amplification, and the anxiety quotient reported to be approaching the prediction of our newly constructed dooms day clock and score board at the high school, donated no doubt to enhance conspiracy levels.

“What? You got to speak up, I ain’t used to hearing through these newfangled hearing plugs they tell us to wear if we get dizzy or feel faint. Supposedly, according to Dwayne, down at the newly promised pharmaceutical company headquarters, your ears control your ability to stand erect and take what you’ve got coming to you. don’t know how much he knows about ears, but he seemed to know quite a bit about being dizzy.”

“This your husband standing next to you?”

“Never saw the creep before in my life. Why you want to know? You ain’t one of those agitatin type people who come by here to tell us to vote are you? Cause we don’t need outside help tellin us to say no, we got plenty of help helping us to say yes. They claim yes is better for your psychology, and it also lowers blood pressure if used in the right amount and at the precise time it’s called for. You should try some. I think it might be working.”

I began to feel a sense of doom settling over the Disney-like qualifying atmosphere, and the calliope sounds coming from the building that seemed now to be rotating or hovering, depending on which eye you were using. Although I doubted it, because I had concluded it was just me reeling from the brainwashing I’d observed since I moved into my new surroundings next to the Data Center several weeks ago.

Although I’ve lived here my entire life, I hadn’t realized until the rainbow came to town how little I knew about the people surrounding me, and influencing my state of survivorship in a world bound to destroy itself, as Vonnegut suggested, because it wasn’t cost effective enough to save itself.

I can see how people are always associating growth with problem solving, not that I agree with it. Once you are grown or turn 18, whichever comes first, you are thrown out of the house, and the problem is solved. But then those who get thrown out start complaining, cause there’s nothing to do in town and they might just have to go where the work is. Although that isn’t a new concept, it is a well-worn one, like children living in their parent’s basement because of affordability issues, it’s just a product of devolution.

We live in a boom-and-bust society, as have generations before us. Promises come to town like comets in a clear dark sky, and they light up the darkness, then the light of reality takes over, and you find yourself sitting on the curb next to the empty new school, a vacant shopping center, boarded-up buildings of promise on main street, and begin to realize, comets although exciting, burn out like the old incandescent bulbs we can’t buy anymore.

I found the depression I was beginning to experience, suggested I move on or give it one more try. I’d been raised to keep turning over rocks until I found something or got bored, so thought I’d give one lucky participant the chance to explain what Déjà vu, the neither here nor there concept, meant to them.

I began to walk toward the edge of town where blackness doesn’t get any blacker, and hope is an attribute that’s too costly in terms of longevity to consider. I’ve found over the years that when you feel there is no hope, the horse has already left the barn and the potatoes refuse to see, so then you go to the place where they are used to it, because they’ll set you straight or possibly shoot at you, depending of course on how considerate you are of their realities.

I’d probably walked a half mile when I saw this old guy sitting on the porch, smokin what I assumed was tobacco. He had a pipe looked to be made from a deer’s antler, and I swear eyeglass lenses reconstituted from discarded bottle bottoms, so they looked like transcendental lenses. His hair was long but fashionable for the part of town I was in; people called it the wealthier side of nowhere, which the town came to be known as.

“You feel up to answering a few question I have about Déjà vu? I can understand if you don’t, I’ve been feeling like quitting myself, the deck seems to be stacked in the nights favor.”

“Quitting ain’t the answer, I can attest to that. I quit 76 years ago, and it got me nowhere I couldn’t have gotten by staying in the game, paying taxes, building roads and schools, and taking pride in the fact I learned to survive despite the new attitude that ain’t new, and about prosperity floating all hypothetical ships or houses, depending I suppose where you live.”

Honesty is a rare thing, and when you come across it in full bloom, you don’t know what you are supposed to do with it? I had grown up with parents and a town dedicated to deception. I believe they felt the less you know of the truth, the less likely you’d be to stay, but the younger generation, thinking no doubt if you believe things are the same everywhere, why bother going there.

“You mind if I ask you a question?”

“I don’t mind, if you promise to not mind my answer. I’m a might off bubble since they closed the better part of town and left us out here by ourselves with electric light that don’t quite work like they should, and water that has that effervescent smell, being that it’s non-denominational I suppose. I know that probably don’t make sense to you, but then what really does when you don’t think about it?”

“You have any feelings about how the new prosperity that come to town is going to affect your or the towns future?”

“You talkin about the water supposed to be glowin so you don’t need a lantern at night in case you ain’t got electricity but just a computer, and you need to use the outhouse? Or the new unemployment office that they built cause someone had listened to the “I have a dream speech,” and thought that King guy was talking to them. Course he turned out to be right, the unemployment lines went around the block until they put a stop to it, peaceful protesting was a thing of the past they said, so everyone went home. You can hardly beat on someone when they is just sitting there and not fighting back. Looks awful on TV. But then the state said they hadn’t worked enough to qualify for having a say so, and by that time they was so emaciated they moved to avoid the embarrassment. Other than that, the glow on the horizon is kind of like living with permanent sunsets and angels humming in the background. I kinda like it.”

“You lived here your entire life?”

“Not yet sonny. You know I’ve been waiting my entire life to answer someone that way, then you show up at sunset, and just like that, my dream has come true. I knew there was something special about you. You are one of those midnight riders aren’t you?”

“What’s a midnight rider?”

“Sonny, a midnight rider is someone who comes to town in Santa’s sleigh carrying the Easter Bunnies egg basket, whistling Dixie, and praying out loud that the banks are big enough to hold all the money you are going to make by believing. There ain’t nothing like delusional prophecies that have failed to materialize everywhere, but here that is, and grab you by the short hairs and whisper in your ear, “There’s no business-like show business.” That kind of depends of course on which angel you get. Some don’t know how to whisper, they shouts.