Friday, February 11, 2005
And that’s all I have to say about basketball at this juncture.
What I do have to say, besides the usual nothing, is, well, fuck, the usual nothing I guess. You know what the problem is, right? The shit that is really on my mind is not fit for public consumption. But actually, that’s not necessarily entirely true. In all factuality, there really is nothing much on my mind. Or, rather, my inbuilt censor negates it by saying it’s inconsequential and thus not worth writing in such a non-epic forum.
Eh. I know it’s all bullshit. I know this. Yet, I still foolishly cling on to some type of standard for which my bizarre self seems to insist has been set by some here up until now unforeseen party. I mean, shit, if it’s just a bloggerville acre filled with mass crapsterpiece antithesis of icons, then what can you do except spit just blah blah blah all over it and hope for the best and hope the royalties come in as a reflection of the worst. Because as you know, bad is the new good.
And, uh, fuck, a bunch of other shit. The point being, nothing is good enough, and thereby, everything is subpar. And furthermore, through the fact of everything being not adequate to properly represent, the bar is officially dropped and mayhem may commence, which was prolly gonna happen anyway, so fuck it.