There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Monday, April 25, 2011

Easter's Kiester

Not trying to make Easter the butt of any jokes here, simply adopting this title because Easter is already over and has shown us our backside. What needs to be done is the classic day-after-candy-themed-holiday-discount purchasing. One of my Easter favorites was the Cadbury Egg which, I contend, was larger in my youth, and not just because I was smaller. I recall this being addressed in the not-too-distant past and the gods of google obliged me quickly, yielding this confirmation in a flash. How fitting to use google for a product with a creme-filled center, no? How about those words with alternate spellings, like creme/cream? Love that stuff.

The other day the headphone jack on my laptop crapped out for good and while I can still pretend to be immersed in my own music and world, I'm now less plugged in to my own world, and extra eavesdroppy. Take the dingles sharing a table with me. My favorite commentary is on the commentary of others. I mean, this creature opened with discussion of "Return of the Jedi," not having seen it for a while, and its quality, and quickly (I always like adverbs, but seem to love saying "quickly" today) launched into discussion of music. This is inevitable in the neighborhood I live in and hey, to each his own, but I still find myself intrigued by how frequently people slide neatly into these little stereotype boxes. After all, why be here otherwise?

The best part of it is, their age, or lack thereof. I assume these guys are about 20-22 years older. Whatever proclivity they have for precocious musical judgment, which is an ordering of words mostly nonsensical and what I mean is, no matter how valid a couple of their assessments might seem, without a hint of even mock humbleness or acknowledgement of their own immaturity and lack of perspective, I'm left as not a fan. Hey, I'm not anti opinion, I'm just anti opinion for the sake of fear of adherence to some perceived existing monoculture. There's a monocultural mean for every cultural group and subgroup. I'M JUST SAYING IDENTIFY WITH WHAT YOU ARE, NOT BY WHAT YOU ARE NOT. Why is this important to me again?

Those last two paragraphs were chock full of judgment, so I must say I make it a point to be able to face the music myself. Why just yesterday, standing in wait for the burrito I had ordered, two young black girls stared at me and, rather than a mostly open commentary on my appearance and certain extrapolations made from said appearance, they proceeded to text message while seated next to one another. We no longer need different languages to communicate things about people right in front of them while keeping them in the dark it seems, we just need different mediums of communication. As always, I am afraid of where we may be headed, a future of disengaged, disassociated, distracted individuals on the near horizon. Something will surely save us from it right?

Well as I've put down some words, and gotten back to griping, as I originally set this blog to be a forum for (I shall not mention my bowel woes of the last 24 hours), and yet not really reached any solid conclusions, I feel concluding right here is a most excellent decision. I need to put more pictures and shiny things in here, to make it more attractive and dupe newcomers into visiting. For the moment, that's a wrap.


  1. Yeah you need some pix homeslice...preferably scantily clad women atop each post.

  2. Ah, the old post pictures of hot women to boost accidental arrivals, if not actual readership. Charles, you would enjoy almost any of these posts.
    Then there is this one, which has no pics of hot women, but still holds a special place in my heart.

  3. My mom gave me a baggy for easter with very mini versions of the Cadberry Creme Egg. It threw me for a loop. I felt like a giant. Childhood no bigger than a fingertip.

  4. Jeff, Igloo Oven, that's a good one. I must read it. And Turban Tan. And Whiskey Pike.


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