The vision came in the form of John Cusack, dressed in the black attire he wore throughout the movie Grosse Point Blank. He pulled out a shotgun, and I stood my ground. I knew he was a man of importance but not of that much importance. He blew up the trunk of a tree and waved his gun at me, motioning that I leave the scene. As I walked away, he uttered the words that have become something of a mantra these days: It's going to get worse before it gets better.

Welcome to the American lifestyle circa 2005, and it's getting worse before it's getting better. Our military hangs out in the desert on the other side of the world, killing and being killed in the name of freedom of people who don't speak English. We don't understand their religion, their fashion sense, or their wants and desires. Almost 2000 American jar heads and grunts have died in our occupation of this wayward land, and thousands upon thousand more have been injured and amputated. That doesn't even count the people that we are trying to protect. Their numbers don't even count yet since they aren't quite free. No one knows what's going to happen over there, but one thing has been stated over and over again: It's going to get worse before it gets better.

The weather is starting to turn. The hot summer sun has left us with a soothing autumn breeze, but we are not allowed to enjoy it. We are inundated by news reports and full page ads from the Public Service Companies on how they plan to gouge every single one of us with outrageous natural gas prices. At least 50 percent higher gas bills, but they will give us a pamphlet on how to better insulate our dwellings. Remember this, America, you can't call it gouging if they warn you in advance. What's the warning? Cold weather is coming, and it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Bills for the war, bills for Katrina & Rita, bills for just keeping the overgrown bureaucracy running. We could tax the obesely rich to pay for all these things. After all, they were the ones who funded our President's re-election campaign. Shouldn't they take up the burden for their choice? No, no, no. We need to cut out the crusts we give to the little people to save the big fat pie for Richie Rich. Government has always done very little for the working class, and I've always been okay with that. Now, government is really starting to work against us. They would rather arrest us than help us. More cops, less understanding, and it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Lies about weapons of mass destruction, the outing of a CIA agent, money laundering, insider trading, no bid contracts to their favorite companies, top jobs for cronies including a Supreme Court nomination, higher gas prices, higher prescription drug prices, and higher and mightier attitudes from the Old Boys Network that has been running this place. Everyone say it along with me: it's going to get worse before it gets better.

Americans are ruder than ever. Cell phones in public, road rage, overweight, unattractive, gossipy, bitchy and standing in line for long periods of time for things we don't even want to deal with. We are Ugly Americans, and we're all over this country. Instead of looking within ourselves and making substantial personal changes, we look outward toward religion, society, and even the jacked-up government to tell us what to do. We have the best of everything in this country, and we abuse the privilege. Stick the Ten Commandments in every building in town, and I guarantee that we will still lie, cheat, steal, covet our neighbors wives, worship graven images, refuse to honor our mothers and fathers, and kill our fellow men. We all know how we should act, we know good from bad, but it's so much easier to go to McDonald's to eat, buy a lottery ticket, give our hard earned cash to uncaring corporations, demand a hand out from the government, bitch about taxes, honk our horns, blab to people on cell phones about our tragic existences, fret about Terror, and live in a bubble thinking that everything we do is right and everything everyone else does is wrong. Aaaaaaaaannnnnnnndddddddd, IT'S GOING TO GET WORSE BEFORE IT GETS BETTER.

So help me out, John Cusack! You can't just pull out a shotgun, blast a tree, and spout the mantra. Didn't I do my part correctly? Didn't I let you say your piece and leave the scene quietly? You didn't even talk to me after the show. You can't just show up, do your thing, and leave me to figure it out on my own, can you?

That's exactly what he did, and I woke up.

Chris Jungle rarely dreams of celebrities.