2013-08-20

The Demonick Diatribes – #6

The Fukon Futon

Generally I am adamantly against genocide, but it would be justified if we could guarantee an end to the scourge that is the fukon futon.  Brought to you by the same people that brought us Oriental Water Torture, bound female feet, seppuku, the roulette of fugu, and other potentially parasite ridden blobs of raw fish presented on elaborately prepared blobs of rice and algae. 

Sleeping on a fukon futon is like laying a blanket on a concrete slab and calling it a "bed".  Sleeping on a fukon futon is like filling a sack with sticks and leaves and rocks and calling it a "bed".  Sleeping on a fukon futon is like calling the felt on a pool table a "mattress". 

Human evolution has been a steady climb toward more comfort.  We have gone from traveling long distances by foot to riding domesticated beasts to riding cushioned carts pulled by those beasts to the beauty and comfort and speed of the modern automobile.  Likewise we have gone from sleeping on rocks in caves to the wonderful bliss of individually pocketed coils to beds made of engineered layers of NASA foam shot through with cooling channels and beads.  The fukon futon was invented by inscrutable oriental torturists before modern recorded history began.  It is as though the evolution of the majestic Arabian horse had stalled at the stage of a small rat-like mammal.

The fukon futon really took off as an export idea decades before WWII started.  This was no accident; it was part of a long-range plan.  As the fukon futon spread across the far east, sleep deprivation degraded the readiness of military defense and the Koreans and Chinese were easy pickings for the first aggressions of the Japanese Empire. 

Westerners took to the fukon futon starting in the 20th century, but it didn't really take off until the granola eating sandal wearers of the 1960s burst upon the scene with sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll.  They would sleep in warrens, where they dropped from neurotransmitter exhaustion, and in their drug numbed minds and bodies, not unlike their caveman ancestors, thought the fukon futon was a step above the floor. 

The result of their drug abuse and obvious brain damage was taking the original fukon futon and turning it into fukon furniture.  Now the fukon futon was draped over a folding wooden frame and called a "fukon couch".  The fukon futon made as good of a "couch" as it did a "bed".  That is, in no position is it comfortable, one rose from it in pain, and one learned to simply avoid its usage.

As many know I am strongly skeptical of government intervention in the free marketplace.  However, if there ever was a place for government regulation it is in the eventual banning of the fukon futon within the borders of the United States of America.  There is no constitutional right to bear and use instruments of torture and as such it would be perfectly appropriate to begin our campaign with "fukon futon purchase permits" with a 10 day waiting period.  Many fukon futons are impulse buys made in haste and emotional distress.  A waiting period would allow people to come to their senses and perhaps purchase a real mattress during the 10 day wait. 

Each fukon futon should come with a fukon futon lock.  Basically, this would be a combination lock equipped bicycle cable which could be wrapped and locked around a rolled up fukon futon. 

At about the same time we would ban the importation of fukon futons to the shores of the USA.   The penultimate phase would begin with unobtrusive "fukon futon free zones".  First they would be placed innocently enough in small strip malls, then progress to department stores, and full-sized malls.  The final phase would be house-to-house and business-to-business confiscation of the remaining fukon futon. 

There will be those who resist, and propaganda organizations can help accustom and educate the public to the dangers of fukon futon ownership.  Groups with names like "CeaseFutons", Futon Control, and Mothers Against Fukon Futons.  Some will scream "They can have my fukon futon when they pry it from my cold dead fingers!"  I say, that can be arranged.

I envision a liberating moment in history, when the suffering public comes to its senses, takes to the streets and fills the night sky with smoke and flames from pyres of burning fukon futons.

Do it for the children.