‘Scientists have discovered the consumption of copious amounts of kale can lead to uncontrollable twitching caused by an eagerness to always say something, an enflamed ego and as well as a green tinge to your own billowing farts.’
Everyone loves an explanation or an uncomplicated black and white situation. We can easily rap our heads around such things and make a decision about what is best for us.
Such as information like the reasons you feel shitty all the time being that coffee shrinks your skin, alcohol causes your brain to vibrate and chocolate creates a direct link from your cerebellum to the crumbling economy.
People act shocked constantly. They love it. Its like a drug and at that, one as powerful as blind faith, pessimism or meth.
It removes responsibility, ornaments reality in a floral dress complimented with a pink bow and calmly makes all your decisions for you.
They cry with astonishment “Gosh! Turns out heroin turns the spleen inside out and replaces the blood flowing through me with rancid barbecue sauce. Well no wonder i’ve been feeling rather lethargic lately. Thank you doctor clickhole!”
I don’t trust people like this, those who allow life to be simplified into absolutes.
There may be a few, such as heroin in this case or perhaps being shot in the head where an answer is clear, that is being that these things are best avoided.
However to say that you are going to grow a pair of tits and menstruate like a fertility symbol simply from enjoying a single glass of soy milk, its seems you may be connecting a number of dots that aren’t there.
I prefer people who see the fragile nature and pure unimportance of existence while meeting it head on, ready to squeeze all they can from it with all due responsibility and abandonment.
It is a surprise to exactly no one that coffee, alcohol and 12 day long porn marathons have their ill side effects.
Human existence however, is wading in the shallows.
With rip tides laced with cocaine, sharks stalking in business attire and tsunamis of mixed alcohol at but an arms length away, some people do people get swept away.
A number of them get tired and simply slip below the surface while others catapult over the horizon on gas guzzling jet skis, spitting obscenities while engulfed in flame, never to be seen again.
But everyone who wades in the shallows together, so close to the edge, look damn good doing it.
Their bodies glisten in the salty spray, heads are thrown back with laughter and a number of them are having sex while they think no one is watching.
Some died, some are fucking and then there are some who are timidly sitting on the hot, coarse sand.
They grimace as the wind whips at the flesh of their faces as they pick and prod at their peeling, burnt skin.
Why are they so miserable?
Is it because their friends are all having fun in the water? Perhaps they feel great sorrow and morn for those lost at sea. Or is it that they are worried that it has been too long since the re-applied their organic fat free culturally sensitive SPF 35,000 moisturising sun tan lotion?
If you can find someone who has bought such a product or anything similar while also not considering leaping from the nearest 30 story building, then I will come join you safe and considered mother fuckers on the beach.
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