Hot Stuff!

Therefore I Am by Billie Eilish plays as a white “upper class” American couple go on a date.

He wears a Loro Piana outfit and she wears

They drive in their Honda. Why? Because Jeff Bezos likes damn Hondas.

They’re in love. Very in love.

They drive all the way to the hot new organic gourmet restaurant.

He’s a Senior Information Security Analyst. She’s a Senior Network Engineer. They make a combined gross income of $215,000.00 a year.

They have two kids. A dog. A cat. And have regularly gone to the Super Bowl for the last five years consecutively.

What’s the problem?

His wife is on her period. And she’s feeling ugly.

She rubs her forehead with her fingertips and looks increasingly disturbed.

“We can’t go.” she says, finally.

“Why!?” he says sweetly.

“Because I feel…icky.” she says.

“No. You don’t. I can tell.” he says, with some irritation.

“You’re not going to make me go.” she says.

“Ashley…I need tonight!” he says pleadingly.

“Honey. I feel…like…shit.” she says.

“Then let’s go get something. Because we can’t go home.” he says.

“I don’t have cramps.” she says.

“I know!” he says.

She chews her gum and looks incredibly upset.

“You just don’t understand.” she says in a quiet voice.

“I don’t understand what?” he says.

“You don’t understand that I need things too!” she says triumphantly.

“Like!?” he says sweetly.

“I need… Look: I’m bloated.” she says. “These jeans are way too tight. I hate how I look right now.”

“You don’t look bloated to me. Okay!?” he says laughing.

She laughs too. “No?”

“It sounds cliche but I mean it. Sweetie I didn’t even notice.” he says.

“But tonight is our date night.” she says.

“Oh! Yeah. Huh.

Well…” he says.

U Not Like Me plays as images of JFK run through Alex’s head. Why? He’s one of those Gen. X guys who rely subconsciously on JFK to get by in life.

“Where is this going?” he asks, channeling Joe and Jack Kennedy. He drives a bit faster. She notices.

“I’m sick!” she whines.

“No. You’re not!” he says.

“I’m GROSS!” she says.

“No. You’re not. You’re not.” he says.

And at that he reaches back into his subconscious and conjures images of Joe and Jack Kennedy again. He gathers his strength from them.

“Look! I have…to confess. I like…the way you look.” he says.

“No. you don’t.” she says, laughing sadly as she runs her hand through her hair. She stares out the passenger seat window.

“NO! I do! It’s…sexy! It’s like Marilyn Monroe.” says Alex.

She pauses and thinks. This makes sense to her based on all of her personal subconscious messages. Maybe he’s right.

The Curse by Agnes Obel plays for us. Not them.

“Look…let’s get real. I like curves!” he says. “I’m a man.”

“No. Don’t patronize me. Okay? But…I mean…it’s just bloating?” she says.

“Yeah. But…you look rounder.” he says seriously.

“In my waist.” she says.

“Yah!” he says. He shrugs. Smirks.

He parks the car.

“I feel gross.” she says.

“Okay. But let’s just see how the evening goes.” he says.

“You’re so damn horny.” she teases him.

Images of Joe and Jack Kennedy go through his subconscious mind. He laughs and feels comforted by them. He feels hot and sexy and virile and American and able and confident and cool and…wise. Cerebral. Daring. Chic even…

“Hey! What can I say!?” he says believing he’s genuinely incredibly cool. He laughs quietly to himself.

They hold hands very demonstratively as they walk into the restaurant. It’s their night. Everything is there for them and everyone else is a spectator. That’s their attitude. That’s the American attitude when they “go out for dinner.” Or it was. Everyone has it who’s not truly poor, unusually aware or old-old money.

And anyway…they desperately rely on the Kennedy mystique to survive psychologically. Why? Because the Kennedys are white. And they allowed middle class Americans, actually almost all Americans, to feel superior and cool. Sexy. Daring. Liberated. It was their original appeal. And without them to rely on…millions of American people would have felt and feel…drab…

So even if it’s all a lie…it’s hard to disavow yourselves from the lie. Because it was so comforting!

And it’s sick. Because it should have been obvious decades ago that it was a lie…but…most people don’t think that deeply anymore if they ever did.

The restaurant relies on the Kennedys. The oil companies rely on the Kennedys. The clothing companies. The entire world at this point. And thanks to the evil Lem didn’t protect Lacey from…she’s struggling to survive. Because her existence forces the world to admit that Jack was a bisexual malignant narcissist. Yes. It’s all that stupid possibly. And…that Lem might have been straight. And that homosexual isn’t something you can actually disguise.

“Yup! Sounds about right!” says Greta Thurnberg.