The Physics of the Doucheface
That smirk.
It haunts me across the spectrum of hottie/douchey variation. Dallas, Chicago, Vancouver, even the ‘bag pics I get from overseas, from England, Australia and Germany.
So many douche-faces.
Different. Yet interconnected. Part of a larger whole.
Spread across the ether like scrotological dark matter. Like Chaos Theory neutrinos of four dimensional interweave. Like Dancing Wu-Li Masters or a metaphysical pendulum swinging across time, through superstrings and that spinning spiral cone in the opening credits of the Twilight Zone.
Surely they’re joking, Dr. Feynman.
Or can the douche-face be proof of Kabbalah’s God Shard? And if so, why does God mock us with the douche-face?
Can I find solace in stripey boobies? Are they enough to smother me in reassurance? It’s worth finding out.
