“There are very few original ideas.”
What a blasphemous utterance! Am I not aware that cellphone screens can now fold in half like compact makeup cases?
I must’ve been too busy Instagramming photos of my lunch to pick it up on Tik Tok. If you’re ticked because you don’t know what I am tŏking about, please give yourself a pat on the back – you are doing more constructive things with your life.
In recent days, has anyone experienced some moron posting a clip of or singing the parody song “Bomb bomb bomb bomb bomb Iran?” That shit wasn’t original (or funny) when comedic geniuses were chanting in 1989 (It was Iraq, not Iran, idiots). And that shit isn’t funny now. I feel sorry for Barbara Ann, whoever she is.
And while I wait to find out if it was a missile or a goose fart that brought down the Ukranian jet, it is comforting to know that the internet holds a plethora of unoriginal ideas from which to choose-my-own-adventure. Been there. TWA 800. Done that. 9/11. Got the T-Shirt. MH370.
While there is certainly nothing original about this post, it might be a precursor to something new. What I have discovered since my abortion and rebirth is that new ideas can be formed where old ideas intersect with one’s life experiences. Unfortunately for the reader, they probably have no idea what I am talking about. Unfortunately for myself, the desire to articulate this feeling has not been assuaged by my failure to do so after several false starts.
So stay tuned. If crybabies on Twitter don’t start a thermonuclear war in the meantime, I may get another chance to put my unoriginal thoughts in order.