As the Tab of Yet Another Click-Bait Article Concerning “What Every 20-Year-Old-And-Five-Months Should Achieve Before Turning 20-And-Six Months” Loads Slowly on The Browser
After meticulously reading
an online review of Taco Bell’s “secret menu,”
which includes potato-stuffed burritos named after superheroes,
without brand loyalty to either DC or Marvel,
I pushed back my chair and questioned
my predisposition to tell people that I am awfully busy
in order to avoid events and affairs unpleasant or boring,
considering how I had just whittled my lifeline
for the sake of taste bud analysis for the critically-acclaimed Queserito.
Perhaps journalism’s dead, but keeps excavating the crucial mysteries of our time,
such as the quality of Frankenstein dishes at a fast-food-belch-haven. Dead in the same way
Bruce Willis had been dead throughout the entire movie, but he kept
digging at the paranormal crux of his own demise. Maybe everybody’s a journalist these days,
even I worked in journalism for awhile, despite my linguistic
idiosyncrasies and dismissal of grammatical authority.
In other words, perhaps yoga pants do not accentuate each person’s
ass in a flattering light, as yoga pants market themselves to do,
though who decides who does or does not wear yoga pants?
“Yoga pants” might be a good term for successive breathing, quick and deep, quick and deep.
Not counting persons who actually practice yoga, (evidently the minority
of yoga-pants-wearers), no one dictates that sort of non-dress-code.
Just like how the Internet’s become a Wild West of bullshit-masquerading-as-truth
or Taco-Bell-reviews-feigning-to-be-news. Because for every blurb
intricately spoiling every single damn hit tv show on television
exists a well-argued essay in pristine prose
about the degradation of American culture
posted on some obscure blog that nobody’s gonna fuckin’ read.
Posted on April 11, 2014, in Blogging, culture, Poetry, Word Salad, writer, Writing and tagged blogging, Charleston, Derek Berry, funny, internet culture, journalism, poem, poetry, spoken word, Unspoken Word, word salad, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.