Unabashedly pretentious musings on noise, shitposting, and other cultural forces.
[It's the hope that comes from] the banal routine of landing the same dumb goof over and over again, sometimes for decades.
A brilliantly human gesture filled with an insistence of beauty and power, one of many similar gestures within the group’s discography.
The enormity and power of the cultural institution that is the Garfield canon cannot be understated.
Every single object in the entire world makes sound if you whack it hard enough.
Since this show came out last year it no longer matters and is dead to me and the rest of the world. I spit on it’s grave and will never speak of it again. Except for all of the times that I do.
It was the easiest way for me to start this post while simultaneously flexing the fact that I have read a book.
