Miami Friday
As I contemplate the manifest cultural violations that patrol the greater Miami area, I can’t help but recall the explorer Ponce De Leon’s first words upon arriving in Florida all those years ago:
Damn, no Fountain of Youth, but there’s gonna be some serious greased up douches wandering through these woods a few centuries from now.
At least that’s the rumor of what Ponce de Leon said. According to his wife, Sally Ann Cavanaugh de Leon. Or perhaps the pastiche of pop culture poo that clogs my brain on a daily basis is confusing me. Stupid childhood HBO. It’s a wonder I learned anything.
So we drift off into another Friday, and I contemplate the simulation and the authentic. Douche in the age of Mechanical Reproduction. Tatted up, inflated spectacles and the cheesecake they acquire as proof of their societal worth.
I contemplate, and sip a PBR that I didn’t refrigerate long enough, so it’s only semi-cold. But it’s PBR.
So it’s all good.
