I imagine most people don't care about apathy. . .I imagine I don't either. . .I mean. . .I do go along with the flow more than. . .nah. . .naaaaaah. . .naaaaaahhhhhh. . .nnnnnnaaaaaahhhhhh. . .nnnnnnyyyyyyaaaaaahhhhhh. . .then they hit a fad like recycling or republicanism. . .then they spend three and a two-thirds of a week figuring out how much they don't care about it. . .then twelve weeks realizing how guilty they are about losing interest. . .four minutes feeling guilty. . .five years sympathizing with the public servants who have to put up with disengaged citizens. . .a quick coffee break and Google search to find out exactly how exorbitantly overpaid the Undersecretary of Overwriting Exterior Plans for Emergency Speed-Dating and Interior Decorating is, followed by a minor localized blackout at a peaceful Starbucks while a nudist shows exactly why so many hobo-men have rejected his fun-loving advances. . .the sinking realization that Kelly Ripa has (not quite) found her place in the circle of life. . .the startling realization that Regis Philbin is (nowhere) near the worm-food part of said circle. . .the somewhat comforting (but mostly anti-hippie-shit I-Rand-so-far-oh-crap-where's-my-left-sock) realization that humans aren't actually anywhere in the circle of life. . .the eventually and inevitably permanent transition to NCIS. . .then the fact that there lives a person who actually put time into writing this instead of studying for her physical education final. . .hot damn. . .nnnnnnaaaaaahhhhhh. . .lukewarm. . .if we're going all real-like. . .I guess this is about on the same plane as dying 6 minutes sooner. . .
Hall of Fame