Hello, my name is Miss Conduct and I've been very, very bad. A terribly sick and
disturbed part of me gets really excited when skyscrapers fall. It makes me feel dirty.
I bolted for the TV that fateful Tuesday afternoon. I had to see those buildings fall.
I just HAD to. Usually I am relegated to enjoying a highly controlled razing. Like when
the Dunes Hotel was blown up in Vegas. I could not peel myself away from the hot
explosive action. This is the same part of me that loved watching the Death Star blow up.
It's the same part of me that is thrilled by Matrix, Kung Fu movies and video games. Only
in this case it's REAL. It has life, texture, aroma and a prevalent element of the
unknown. Yeah, I know it's bad. But isn't bad what it's all about? It is the place
where new thoughts and ideas are born. Bad is the leading edge.
There is a maybe not-so-sick layer to my fetish. Life is a creation/destruction wheel of
fortune. This is the fulcrum of the creative process. Death is inevitable. The ego
dies for the spirit, the forest needs fire to propagate, the Phoenix rises from its
ashes. Destruction makes me shiver with excitement for the unknown. It makes my inner
revolutionary jump and shout for joy. Destruction brings people together. And unity is
sexy.
As the structural remains succumbed to gravity, I hoped this was the beginning of a
commerce-free whirled. Where is my replicator?
