"Gubernatorial" has been voted America's favorite word for the 300th consecutive year.
Blood Be-Ball (formerly known as Be Blood Ball, even more formally known as There Will Be Blood Ball) has become a nominal past-time for the New York City elite.
And exquisite breasts on white women are a thing of legend and mystery.
On the cusp of such an arbitrarily momentous occasion, one might be inclined to look backwards at the foundation below the paths ahead of us to find what's propelled us to such heights. Historians will claim, as they must, that the vast database of creative brain vomit siphoned into one another's pupils contains all they need to know to understand the first half of the 3rd millennium. Of course, as historians are apt to deny, their claims are without merit. Teams of millions of social anthropologists working union hours would still take trillions of years to condense the abyss of these the interwebs into a concise thesis statement. It's impossible.
I'm preparing for when the truly important artifacts of our time are those that live outside this all-consuming medium, that which can withstand power-outages or whimsical corporate billing. I'm talking of course, about a sea monster colony.
This Friday at 8:21 (sundown), dress up as your favorite Leviathan, troll or snowman (or david bowie for that matter), and meet me at Union Square. There you will receive instructions.
Forget nothing!
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