The Juice Is Loose

I think I did it. I think I finally rid myself of a need to post. It wasn’t an easy thing to do, mind you. You could see a relative trend towards it over the last few years, but the drop off lately has been quite pronounced I’m happy to say. Usually when you are trying to immobilize a cat, you must hack away at the foundations that hold it up – namely it’s legs. And the pillars upon which this grotesque cat torso have historically rested upon have always mainly been stupid internet links and original material. And now everyone has their own source for funny videos and silly GIFs in 2017, and you will find that the need or the interest in expressing your own individual thoughts on the internet takes a sharp downturn when you turn 30.

It could just be cynicism. Or maybe more specific…a fatigue you acquire after realizing that it’s not always possible to make the world a more interesting place by opening your mouth. Or typing your fingers I guess, whatever. This is a fatigue that you acquire even faster when witnessing others opening their dumb mouths and seeing meaningless chatter spill out in their inane voices. But sometimes there’s a deep rooted need still to fill the void with matter. Any matter, just stuff something in there, create some crap and spread it on the walls. That’s still something I’m working on, which is where I find myself today.

Also metaphors. I’m working on metaphors. How to frame things in more relevant metaphors, but I have broken cat legs in my mind right now and it’s hard to shake.

Earlier this August, a date passed that would have marked the 15th anniversary of this site’s existence. And that would be a notable consideration if anything of significance ever happened here, but we’ve never really been about that. 15 years! That’s a long time to carry something around. You’d think things like this wouldn’t stain your life forever, and that you could eventually move on after a decade and a half. But life doesn’t work like that, and it’s unfair.

Just look at OJ Simpson.

He was the NFL MVP in 1973 (44 years ago!!!) and it’s still all anyone can talk about when the topic turns to OJ. Oh, no one had ever rushed for 2,000 yards before. Oh, it was the Bills’ first winning record since 1966. Oh, OJ led the league in rushing touchdowns, yards from scrimmage, and total rushing yards. Oh, he ran for 143.1 yards per game, 10 more than any other player in NFL history. Oh, he did it all in a 14-game season as well. I mean I’m sick of it, the man has a life outside of football, let’s move on already. Surely a man cannot be defined by such a singular act for the rest of their life.

I don’t remember what I was originally planning on expressing with this. Is there a metaphor here…? I will try again next post.

‘Cause when you’re fifteen and somebody tells you they love you
You’re gonna believe them



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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