Those awkward situations that make you feel old have been occurring in rapid succession. This was the first Thanksgiving in which I preferred the sweet potato mashed potatoes to the white potato mashed potatoes. No one under the age of old likes sweet potatoes, what is happening to me?
I find crossword puzzles exceedingly irritating, even the venerable NY Times. They tend to be so sloppy and imprecise, it can make a philosopher irate. Just yesterday, the clue was premise, the answer was maxim. I was incredulous, these two concepts have nothing in common. I had to look it up, just to make sure. According to some shitty dictionary I found lying around, that ignoramus Webster (oh how I covet the OED), a premise is an assumption used in argumentation, a maxim is a universal law or code of conduct. Sure both are used in philosophy, but it would be like asking engine and answering transmission. “But they have to deal with automobiles,” says Will Shortz the douche bag. Well, you’re dumb.
I was at some gym last night, and of the five TVs that were on, the only one with sound was playing Fresh Prince of Bel Air reruns. I got nostalgic and took it as a sign. I remember it being fairly enlightened (I just called Fresh Prince enlightened) for portraying a black family as rich on prime time TV, yet parts of it are really fucked up. Like the racial hierarchy within the show. Guess who is darker, the butler or anyone else on the show? Of course, the darker the skin the lower the class. This wouldn’t be such a big deal if it weren’t playing into such a common theme in society.
I went out with the hight school gang in Davis, there were a lot of us, it was a little like a time machine. This chick was totally hitting on me, she was made of bronze.
1 comment:
Did you get some from her brother too? I know you did.
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