It is often called Mundelein, though it should be pronounced Mundane-Line. Either side of which still represents a rather maudlin modernity with a continuous coat of never blending fresh paint to decorate a multitude of cosmetic spackly sins plunked down into a feculently fertilized temporary tinsely toxic landscape of Post Neo Consumer Hodge-podge with a dash of brick-a-brack banker shack rubber stamped on any side of the road and the entire mother load of what’s been sold expanda packed into the parking garage and two cars out in the cold getting ever quicker old thats how the new ones get sold.

Everyone here is camping in brick, wood or metal tents looking for a lawn to cut to put a dent in some overspent rent.  Rent if ya do, gas if ya don’t!

Ramen and a rickshaw is the only way to travel someplace where the pavement turns to gravel and the gravel turns to dust and the funky monkey money machine of capitalism turns to rust and decay and there we shall plant and play amid the forest and the ferns like the wise old natives of yesterday. 

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against any midwestern town, it’s just a passing pseudo architectural disease that’s going around.

© Le Orb 6-27-11