What would balloon boy do?
Oh, balloon boy, I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve been imagining you in my memoir workshop 20 years from now, 30 years from now.
In the derby of fucked-up childhoods, you just might win.
Oh, balloon boy. I grew up among Californians who waited for aliens. Sometimes I thought they were so crazy, so blood-thirsty. But the reality-TV vampires wait for you with much more anger, much more zeal.
Balloon boy, I hope you didn’t get in too much trouble for blurting the family secret to Wolf Blitzer. You were only six. And, you know what? They had it coming.
Someone had to stop the madness, stop the bullshit. You were only six, balloon boy, but you did it. You are my hero.
Speak truth to power, as the Quakers say. Speak it on CNN, kid.
You are my hero, balloon boy.
Whenever I think, Wow, it would be easier to lie right now, I will think of you.
What would balloon boy do?
Balloon boy would tell the truth.
I just heard a beautiful and fucked-up song about you, balloon boy. You might like it.
You can listen to it HERE.
But of course it isn’t really a song about you. It’s a song about the rest of us. It’s a song about all the CNN-watchers and the CNN-reporters and the people who cannot deal with the pain of their own lives looking, watching, hoping for the worst.
But you are the best, balloon boy.
You are the very best.
