It’s old but it’s gold…
Miley Cyrus can twerk all she wants and people cheer. Pop culture can spit out clickbait all over Facebook (the 10 best things about X — who gives a shit?) all day long, and folks go for it.
People can go goo-goo for Lady Gaga and start a firestorm over Team Jacob and Team Edward. The SFWA can give out awards to cherished Leftists in a misguided attempt to change the culture, and some idiot can write a novel about Dinosaur Sex and it sells. Lena Dunham, a rich white woman, can sit there droning on about how she’s oppressed and people buy it. Rosie O’Donnell can stuff her face with donuts, talking about fat-shaming while some dude wanders down public streets twirling his genitals like a helicopter saying “accept me, for I am the future.”
To me it’s all noise, it’s a toilet full of shit that just won’t flush, it’s the scent downwind of the sewage treatment plant, the fungus stuck permanently underneath your toenails. It is the sludge at the bottom of the beer bottle, warm and stale, it is the shut-in, sickly pale. It is the furtive glance in a bad part of town, the checker counting coins with a frown. It is the storm cloud gathering on a beachy day, the slow driver blocking your way. It is that nagging sinful thought when you sit down to pray. It is the toilet paper that tears, the stench that won’t wash away. And when you wake up, it’s another day knowing that these fucks are here to stay.
HT: Liberty’s Torch