july 10 in idea barrages

If you own the world’s greatest race-horse and you don’t name it “Haulin’ Oates” you do not deserve to own that majestic creature, let alone to profit off its labours. You just let that thing free, into the wild, no longer under your disappointing yoke.

Something particular sad about a town defining itself by an industry that long ago abandoned it or flat out disappeared. Rochester, Photo City. Amsterdam, Carpet City. It’s like residual Stockholm Syndrome. Rochester has lilacs! Amsterdam has, uh, meth labs! Roll with the new.

The mystifyingly bizarre ASMR splinter fetish of “POV of a sexually provocative lady barber grooming you” will now be referred to as “Shave And A Haircut, Two Tits”.

Hot Pockets are just Beef Pop Tarts.

Is the Kool-Aid Man is the pitcher, is his lover the catcher?

I just can’t believe your theory on how they protected the ark during construction, Noah fence.

Hot sauce pancakes: THE CREPES OF WRATH.

Larry’s fashionista cousin Cary The Label Guy.