Strange Daze

 

brain

“Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean…”

I’m just sitting there with a cup my 2nd cup of morning afternoon-ish coffee, and I start singing this ad jingle. It just pops into my head, I’m not sure why or from which dark, cerebral crevasse of my brain. But it dawns on me that I’m full of stuff like this; full of product ads, slogans, jingles. It’s like the plastic garbage that floats adrift in our oceans, only it’s my head and the garbage is of a non-physical kind. Now and then it washes ashore and comes to mind.

I know, from that day in college when I was paying attention, that there’s no finite limit to the amount of things we can store as memories, so it’s not pushing anything else out of there. There’s no problem in that sense. Maybe the oceanic plastic metaphor isn’t the best; I can’t think of an equivalent to the seagull with a 6 pack ring around its neck, so to speak. But it’s still disturbing on some level, how we’ve bombarded ourselves and retain to some degree the residue of our commercialism lifestyle. And it’s not just something ephemeral like memory. Supposedly our bodies are riddled with preservatives from eating so much processed food that even postmortem decay is slowed to an unnatural rate. So maybe there is some way that prolonged exposure to marketing messages changes how we think too.

It’s just one of the many ways which our modern way of life in 2016 is so different from the vast majority of human history. Things have gotten pretty fucking bizarre. We didn’t evolve under these conditions; “today” is an aberration. I wonder what would happen if you plucked your average 1776 New York citizen and dropped them into present day Times Square. I think they’d just explode. I mean an actual explosion, with flames and people diving in slow motion towards the camera. We might need Mr. Clean after all.

Binge-watching Game of Thrones is Making Me Into a Horrible Person

I’ve been binge-watching Game of Thrones, and it’s making me into a horrible human being. After a long period of not having HBO, I do now and am trying to catch up with the series before the premier of season 6 in April. So that is why I find myself immersed in the world of Westeros and Essos, where the conniving rule, the blood-thirsty lead, and the whores smile when you wink and toss a coin in their general direction.

As vastly entertaining as George R.R. Martin’s epic saga is, perhaps it is not the healthiest practice to spend hours inhabiting it, as it may have certain, shall we say, undesired consequences.

I find myself rather preoccupied with what Lord Steve of the House of Feingold is plotting. He’s my neighbor in case you’re wondering. Should he try to expand the reaches of his realm by taking the lands west of my driveway, nothing would stop him from marching his forces across the cul du sac and seizing the only road in or out.

Of course, with Lord Steve out of the picture, the heir to his title would be the “Mad Toddler” Cooper. A loose cannon if there ever was one. Why, the fool would burn the entire neighborhood if he could be king of the ashes! Perhaps diplomacy has its place from time to time.

Another recent development has been my inclination to swing a broadsword at the neck of the insolent cashier at Tedeschi’s. I won’t stand for disrespect from a low-born peasant. I am a land owner! Aye, truth be told, I’ve never swung a sword at anybody, but now it seems like a viable option on a day to day basis. Kinda concerning?

But no time for that now. My lawn needs tending to, so I shall send a raven to The Home Depot inquiring the price of grass seed. After all, spring is coming…