On the issue of Helen of Troy and the bombshell, I did get some clarity, at least. Clarity was in the form of a question, question being: What differentiates Helen of Troy from the bombshell? I had no answer to that which led me to the question: What is similar about Helen of Troy and the bombshell? That they both can launch a thousand ships was my answer which got me wondering on that answer until I focused on ships (eventually). Ships were what was in Helen of Troy 's time but in a postmodern era, it would be something far more advanced than a ship but which is still a ship. But to know what that could be in a postmodern era, I had to know what it was in the modern era (kind of like how I would have never thought of the bombshell if I did not think of Marilyn Monroe which is the modern version of Helen of Troy) so that it what I did. Think (not really) and I thought of the answer. What is a ship in the modern age? A spaceship. So, what is a spaceship in the postmodern era? A spacesheep was my answer and what is a spacesheep?
Don't freaking know what is but I wanted to know, desperately so, so much so that that question itself became an existential crisis and yes, not that existential crisis. My existential crisis is 'my ex is ten whatever the fuck tial means. My ex was a 10…out of 40 but I still loved that quarterback. Or at least the backshots I gave her for a quarter. Truly, sex is transactional.
I hate my ex. She was such a B***H and I hate every b***h because they get to have that brew and I do not (Bitches Brew is Based) and have to settle with Uncle Meat (cooked by Frank Zappa). I am a vegetarian. Would like to say that I am a vegetarian but I could never live without eating meat. Incidentally, how do vegetarians live without eating meat? You have so much green in your meals that you have definitely touched grass, even if by colourful proxy). I have not. I stay inside. I stay petty. I stay scheming. I stay anti-capitalist. I stay wishing that Uncle Sam died. I stay wishing the U.S became the US and the US became the ASS and the ASS fell into a hole and never came out. I stay wishing that the United States united states, all three, and became beer foam which eventually disappears. I stay wishing you will forgive because I say that I am sorry and will go to church to apologize.
Church. I go there…sometimes. At times, I wish that my local church's pastor was Churchill and that Churchill was a church eel ill of the church who seeks Stalin to get the man of steel because Churchill seeking Stalin is church eel seeking Joseph and Joseph is the father of Jesus who is the man of steel and the man of steel is Superman who is a superhero and the Church seeking a comic sounds like a modern witch-hunt and I don't know what else to say so I will say something about church…its spiritual leader.
It's a pope. The postmodern pope is pop. Pop culture is now religion. Pop stars are worshiped and revered as deities. As for man's best friend, that is the daughter of a Carpenter. Not the son of a carpenter but the daughter of a Carpenter. Hooray for progress…I guess. Guess now I have a reason to stay inside.
Inside is where I stay scheming. Inside is where I stay petty. Inside is where I stay anti-capitalist. Inside is where I stay wishing that Uncle Sam died. Inside is where I stay wishing the U.S became the US and the US became the ASS and the ASS fell into a hole and never came out. Inside is where I stay wishing…you know the rest of the speech. Its Uncle Sam, the U.S and United States. It is A, B, or C. No D. Never was going to choose a D because D stands for Dictator. Or Dick. Or Don-🤫
C Is not an option too. Or B. A too. To each their own but I stay wishing that there was option P. P for Propaganda → Propa + gan + da → Proper + gun + yes → It's a proper gun only if the bullets are yes. Yes to a statesman being a gaslighter, liquidator and solidus! Yes to toxic relationships becoming so toxic, they poison the people in them to death! Yes to relationships dying! Yes to all out situationships!
[Bleak]
Reminds me of ShoeOnHead who I unironically call a 'menefreghista'. Know who else who 'simply does not give a f**k?' Performative males, that's who. They don't give a f**k about the no relationship ban and are willing to do anything to get one and so: the army. Nothing is more performative than war (except the performance on that stage that is life but f**k that) and so performative males go to war to [I don't give a thinking f**k/Still thinking 'bout it]
War. Army. Top brass. Tank tops. Think-tank. Still trying to think how a literal thinking tank can be the head-honcho of the army and how the military industrial complex can actually be a complex and how all this can freaking fit into my postmodern narrative of the city state in the near future. How all this will insert itself into the plot is honestly, under development but for now, in terms of plotting, I'm fresh out of plot lines that are more than a thread long so yeah. Hope my postwalnut clarity was what you would generally, on your best day, call peak mid so when offered peak mid or pick mead, you will be ECSTATIC to pick mead so that you are drunk on the mead when you do read this again and thus call it whatever else the f**k else other than peak mid. Please, call it anything other than peak mid.
P.S:Christmas was fun. Very red. Like Santa Clause's clothes. Except that Santa Clause does not exist, not really. Not in the way most people know him. Nope, Santa Claus is no magic riding sleigh riding bearded and jolly old man who loves delivering presents and does deliver them each Christmas but simple a clause. Santa is a clause and this Santa clause is that the collaboration between Santa and Jesus must be honored. In simple terms, a Jesus piece must be presented as a present during Christmas to one family member. And there's a caveat to this Santa Clause: The Jesus piece must be fake because Christmas is fake. Why is it fake? Because Jesus was not born on that day. Did I buy the Jesus piece. Did I present the Jesus piece to a family member. Was there even a family member to present to. If not, what could happen to me. What did happen to me. Why are they no question marks at the end of these questions. Why do I seem not to care that my P.S is running a little too long. Why am I still writing. Okay, I will...