Jibberjab

Prattle off nonsensical jibberjab
for what?
Does it benefit the cosmos
to move air particles
more than the average organism?
There may be an upside
to increased social fortitude,
though its presence
currently can’t be brought about
by conversing with the source.
Modern methods preach research–
the patterns of self-aggrandizing youth
now freshly entering the labor force
must be recorded and studied,
analyzed for psychological concerns
and then swiftly monetized
for the sake of further capitalistic gerrymandering.

This sponsored content has been brought to you
by the Insta-Gram council:
“Vigilant Grandmothers of all Stripes
Watching the Backs of Excitable Types
Since 1981”

[By the] Spool

Functional elastic waistband replacement
has taken the sweatpant market by storm,
just as those most forward-thinking
tastemakers and trendsetters predicted
as far back as a full generation ago.

Here’s the long and short of it:
You’re the kind of person who very much enjoys
the comfort and functionality of a sweatpant,
to the point where your favorite pair (they
don’t make ’em quite like that anymore)
requires a new waistband after only
moderate garmential utilization.

Rather than fretting and tossing
those pants you know and love
(within whose bounds you formed
the most lasting memories of your entire lifetime),
you simply dip into your junk drawer
for a length of replacement elastic
and doctor up those trousers all on your own!

Replacement elastics are sold by the foot
(or in fractions of feet, for the real weirdos out there),
with a competitive price drop if you order it
by the spool.

Fully engrossed in the 21st Century, we believe
it’s our duty to turn that dream
of on-demand, taut-yet-comfortable waistbands
into a reality that we modern world citizens
take for granted, like the internet
or patent leather galoshes.

Disclaimer: due to the sheer number
of semi-literate individuals asking if we
provide discounts for people ordering their elastics
“by the pool”, we have discontinued
poolside delivery of our fine product line.

Tour de Force

Of Nice and Men is a snappy, genre-driven play predicated on your typical hero’s journey through the heartland once regarded as antiquated–cornball, even–in the pseudo-sophisticated shadow of a cultured society we’ve been thrust into by the more majorly militaristic manchildren among us (trading individual liberties for big boy toys and candy).

Since we occupy an epoch where modern delineation truly has strangled the life out of chronological concerns (that is to say we’ve had our fair share of allegorical parallelograms in our time, no doubt about that, no siree), if you find yourself charged with taking in this three-hour beauty, you can–and should–simply attend the theatre as a pilgrim of the arts, allowing yourself to become awash in a different reality, even if only for a glimmering moment.

Other than the obvious sociological implications afforded to us by the title, you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the tap dance sequences that pop up seemingly from out of nowhere (even though I’ve just spoiled the twist for you, but you pay that no mind). In a nutshell, this tour de force pits Americana versus whimsy at the intersection of Leap and Gamble Avenues.

For all my field trip aficionados out there, I recommend bringing a schoolbusful of primary school students to see the Wednesday matinee, as tickets for 12 and under are free.

Subsequent Scientists

Ukulele tragedies beget other instances of monstrous buttress shattering, save the few modern conventions we [the contemporary sample-chompers of northwest Indodelphia] have been taking for granted lo these past several weeks.

But fret not, a squalid interpretation of the Menomenina Walk of Fame will never sully the legacy set forth by the downtrodden experts who sought the anthropological understanding previously granted by theologians–and subsequent scientists–throughout the generations, only to come up short when confronted with the fickle nature of exaggerated Middle American townsfolk, their collective backs up against their respective walls and in no position to exercise caution anymore.

Parlor

Perusing the parlor of the Parisian Peruvian consulate wouldn’t be so difficult, were it not for the giant window-washing syndicate purporting to require seven hours a day, every day, to free the egalitarian edifice from smudges and insect remnants that would otherwise mar the immaculate façade and strip its dignity away through a slight uptick in entropic rate that would, over the course of two to three generations (depending on who you speak to on the topic) detereriorate that aesthetic je ne sais quoi, anywhere from 14 to 17% per decade on average. Extrapolating from there, we’re looking at complete disavowal of the skin-deep school of architectural and biological beauty that allowed our “modern civilization” to “flourish” under the spell of charming artifice.

So good luck ever getting into that parlor, and don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.