july 11 in idea barrages

You pull upside the Duke Brothers in their “General Lee”. You are driving a muscle car done up in Union colours. You tell them your car is called “The General Sherman”. They laugh and ask why. You calmly aim the flamethrowers at them and engage. Oh, they know now.

“We’re going to breeze through the oil rig safety instructions because we’ve all worked on many of these before,” he told the group, “you know the drill.”

It’s fun to pretend that Smashmouth was the cringiest thing to ever come out of radio soft-rock, it really is, it’s a fun meme but always remember: Creed existed, it actually existed, they really thought they were making music.

Privacy, after all, is the opposite of fame and the driving force behind our culture is that the greatest sin in the world is to not be famous. And so here we are.

Greatness, greatness, we are overfull on greatness, every idiot on every street corner, screaming out their aspirations toward greatness. Greatness has run its course, polluted our skies and our hearts. We need good now. We need goodness now. Greatness proved itself wanting.

In the end, we are all just secret messages, known fully not even to ourselves, floating through cipherspace.

And then sometimes all I can generate is weird brain farts like the line “birches ain’t shit but rows of sticks”.

Really, I just hope that at culinary schools, the frats paddle each other with charcuterie boards.