Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Top ten things I'd say to David Letterman if post retirement he moves to Sydney and right next door to me
10. Oh hey.
9. Hello again.
8. Yeah sometimes the lifts take ages, oh wait, I mean elevators.
7. The 7-11 down the road is probably the only thing open now.
6. No that definitely wasn't me, I don't even like Latin Beats
5. What were Drew Barrymore's boobs like?
4. I've got ten to noon.
3. No number three writers instead made a non verbal eye brow raise matched with friendly smirk in lieu of verbal awkward mutual waiting for elevator small talk.
2. Hi, how are you?
1. Want to do a podcast with me?
If you ask me (and people do frequently, just to nip any naysaying square in the bud before it has a chance to do grow, and let’s face it, growth can sometimes lead to an increase in size for fuck’s sake) there simply is nothing on earth quite as galvanizing as the unintended grisliness of being groovy.
Now I know that's a controversial thing to say. Highly controversial. So I'll let it sit with you for a moment. To let it sink in. And fully affect your regions where things sink to. I prefer to use my brain, so I mostly take things in and then let them rise up, but I am not everyone.
As you accept this statement into your heart I do ask for just one favor, before you make your placards, before you write to your elected officials, before you riot with water pistols at your local joke book store ironically called 'dry wit', before you play your favorite Michael Jackson protest song, before you graffiti slogans of independent thought onto the side of light rail carriages, before you shake your fist saying something like 'grrrr', before you burn down a whole mall to save you burning down each of your target stores independently even knowing full well that an innocent food court Cambodian food start up that admittedly was failing and will be thankful for the chance to claim insurance and pretend this entire ordeal be finally over, will accidentally get mixed up in your cause, and be burned down against your specific wishes, or at least in contrast to your specific goals, before your bazooka a rival gang's secret headquarters without explaining how you FOUND OUT that secret, before you declare all out war against a nation of peace loving neutral island living resort owners, before you light yourself on fire on the steps of parliament surprisingly on the west side steps, the ones next to the fountain, before you go on a hunger strike and stitch your lips together, before you... and I hate to even think about this... but before you push over a chair in disgust.
Just hear me out. Ok? I know it's a brutally controversial statement, and l know you wish for the acknowledgment of an unheralded level of statement of disagreement, but I can defend it. So you'll listen? Deal? ANSWER ME YOU PSYCO FUCK????
Oh wait, this isn't an audible medium, I assume you agreed.
Nothing on earth is as galvanizing as the unintended grisliness of being groovy, because:
The term to be 'groovy' comes from the 'grooves' on vinyl records.
Vinyl was also used to make faux leather jackets.
Jackets keep you warm in mild cold.
Mild is how pussies order the spice level of their Buffalo Chicken Wings.
Chickens being an animal who never 'intended' to be mostly coveted for their wings, especially seeing as they can't fly, and frankly they personally consider their beaks to be their tastiest part.
Their beaks being the only part of their body their tongues can reach.
Reach being how you acquire something on the other side of the table.
Things like salt, pepper and a myriad of other potential condiment options, which have the ability to dazzle the senses and enhance foodstuffs whether already superb or in dire need of help.
The marriage of need and help being proof of mankind's inherent instinct for compassion, and in no way at all undermines the sanctity of the more traditional marriage, between a boy and his cousin even though they look strikingly alike, due to them being the only two people in town on the exact same class structure.
And compassion being one of the few words to guarantee bringing to mind ‘compression’, an important part of the process of vinyl record production, which brings us full circle.
Circles being nature’s strongest shape, other than triangles, and possibly rhombuses.
So there you have it. That settles that. If you didn't wait you may now jump in the fountain and put yourself out, unstitch your lips and eat a Cambodian Noodle Soup, or ..... and I hate to even think about this... pick up the chair you pushed over.
The important thing is that now we're all on the same page, and no one has even the slightest bit of doubt as to why the unintended grisliness of being groovy is super galvanizing.
Oh wait, also because if you're groovy there's also the grisly reality that someone else is not so lucky and perhaps feels lonely and left out which raises the very galvanizing topic of whether utter equality is a possibility, or should even be a social goal.
Goals being things only achievable with effort.
Effort being something that tastes like shit, no matter what condiments you have available. A bit like Cambodian food apparently. Ahhh. Full circle.