This morning, Isaac told Geoff the school lunches he lovingly packs in a compartmentalized, BPA-free container each weekday morning don't have enough "pop," and by "pop" he meant "pizazz," not Coke or Sprite as described in the Midwest.
I asked him to elaborate, and he said, "you know, like a Gogurt or something. Like other kids get Gogurts."
I guess it's our own fault for letting him and Paige burn their eyeballs and neurons out on too many cable cooking shows while we sleep half of each weekend morning away.
Am I surprised that a First World six-year old critiques the presentation of his lunch and the lack of portable yogurt therein, despite his parents' relentless efforts to instill in him basic gratitude for running water and not living under a pile of rubble as bombs and drone-fired missiles rain overhead?
No. No, I am not. I'm not surprised, because Shopkins, and also nothing fucking matters anymore. I know I sound like the captain of Team Petty when I say this, but Shopkins ain't shit.
When WE were kids, we had Beanie Babies, Garbage Pail Kids, and those little plastic charm bracelet thingies that are exactly like Shopkins, but with even more plastic because you attached them to a plastic chain with plastic clips and wore them as jewelry.
'Member? I know you do. That tennis racket was dope.
Anyway, all of this unmitigated useless crap--the charms, the Shopkins, the Beanie Babies, and possibly even the Garbage Pail Kids--will outlast us all anyway. Long after the forests and oceans reclaim our ephemeral edifices of lust and greed, teeny tiny harmonicas and itsy bitsy purple cupcakes with googly-eyeballs will dot the landscape as the sole evidence of humanity's contribution to the cosmos.
All of which leads me to a new level of nihilism, which in case you didn't know is Nietzche and Kierkegaard for truly giving ABSOLUTE ZERO by way of fucks anymore.
As a society, we now care more about what bathroom people use than we do about them dying of preventable diseases and bankrupt from medical bills.
Our POTUS is a manifestly delusional, likely senile, sociopathic, treasonous, semi-literate, lecherous oligarch who is scissoring the Constitution into red white and blue confetti like Edward Cheeto-Hands with the help of Congress, all at the direction of a repellent, rheumy-eyed alcoholic who legit wants to destroy democracy and perpetuate the master race.
Meantime, those with the gall n' balls to make the painfully fucking obvious foregoing observations are besieged and lurked on the daily by thirsty AF, sorryass, unemployed neo-Nazi trolls and farm-fresh, cage-free, Twitter egg basement-dwelling motherfuckers with nothing better to do than get all up in our shit like white supremacy on rice.
And all the while, American Girl dolls with their cross-country skis, trundle beds, and allergy-friendly tiny plastic food (all of which will also outlast humanity) have a better quality of life than almost all their sentient human counterparts.
So.
Let's put a Gogurt in that lunchbox and arrange some Shopkins on a table, because why not? Nothing matters anymore anyway, and IDGAF!
I guess it's our own fault for letting him and Paige burn their eyeballs and neurons out on too many cable cooking shows while we sleep half of each weekend morning away.
Am I surprised that a First World six-year old critiques the presentation of his lunch and the lack of portable yogurt therein, despite his parents' relentless efforts to instill in him basic gratitude for running water and not living under a pile of rubble as bombs and drone-fired missiles rain overhead?
No. No, I am not. I'm not surprised, because Shopkins, and also nothing fucking matters anymore. I know I sound like the captain of Team Petty when I say this, but Shopkins ain't shit.
When WE were kids, we had Beanie Babies, Garbage Pail Kids, and those little plastic charm bracelet thingies that are exactly like Shopkins, but with even more plastic because you attached them to a plastic chain with plastic clips and wore them as jewelry.
'Member? I know you do. That tennis racket was dope.
Anyway, all of this unmitigated useless crap--the charms, the Shopkins, the Beanie Babies, and possibly even the Garbage Pail Kids--will outlast us all anyway. Long after the forests and oceans reclaim our ephemeral edifices of lust and greed, teeny tiny harmonicas and itsy bitsy purple cupcakes with googly-eyeballs will dot the landscape as the sole evidence of humanity's contribution to the cosmos.
All of which leads me to a new level of nihilism, which in case you didn't know is Nietzche and Kierkegaard for truly giving ABSOLUTE ZERO by way of fucks anymore.
As a society, we now care more about what bathroom people use than we do about them dying of preventable diseases and bankrupt from medical bills.
Our POTUS is a manifestly delusional, likely senile, sociopathic, treasonous, semi-literate, lecherous oligarch who is scissoring the Constitution into red white and blue confetti like Edward Cheeto-Hands with the help of Congress, all at the direction of a repellent, rheumy-eyed alcoholic who legit wants to destroy democracy and perpetuate the master race.
Meantime, those with the gall n' balls to make the painfully fucking obvious foregoing observations are besieged and lurked on the daily by thirsty AF, sorryass, unemployed neo-Nazi trolls and farm-fresh, cage-free, Twitter egg basement-dwelling motherfuckers with nothing better to do than get all up in our shit like white supremacy on rice.
And all the while, American Girl dolls with their cross-country skis, trundle beds, and allergy-friendly tiny plastic food (all of which will also outlast humanity) have a better quality of life than almost all their sentient human counterparts.
So.
Let's put a Gogurt in that lunchbox and arrange some Shopkins on a table, because why not? Nothing matters anymore anyway, and IDGAF!
