Emotions are the Moustache of the Soul

Do not shave the spiritual face of humanity but let it blossom into a hairy tangle of love and wonder.

Sgt. Lady Grin and her Happy Commandos

emmet_frost_20160702-175-1024x895As we all are and as we all must, I am thinking deep thoughts and sending hard prayers out to the spiritual warrior using her passions and integrity and real awesome power and sick skillz and ferocious friendliness to win the war. What war, you say. Well, let me tell you. This is the war on magic, the war on smoke and mirrors, the war on wonder, the war on delight, the war on whimsy, the war on potato salad and waterslides and fresh flowers. Yeah that war. The one they waged without mercy nor quarter on jocularity and hilarity. And these Lady Warriors are out there on the front lines, the freaking tip of the freaking spear, taking down the haters of the soul, the enemies of glee, the usurpers of blitheness. Goddamn those frowning sons of frowning dung and their blitzkrieg of bumhuggery. I mean if it wasn’t for these women out there doing freaking battle to the freaking death with the forces of anti-buffoonery and the agents of anti-mirth then, well, what the freak do you think is going to happen? Shit is gonna get sad. And all us simple folk are gonna go to the big frown in the sky. So they fight. They’re taking it back. One chuckle at a time. The Female Fighters For Fun And Freedom. The FFFFAF. And they are gonna burn down the sprightliness-less horde with stank verve beams from their funky fun guns and restore the universe to giggling glory. And in a millennia hence, the children of the children of the children of the children of the children of the mothers of the fighters will hoist their mugs into the sky, yell: Hooray! And chug those cold brewskis down. Just like Mama woulda wanted. LONG LIVE BEGUILEMENT! LONG LIVE THE FIGHTERS! FUN HARD!

Jobbers Jobbing, Global Importance-style

zielscheibechinese
It’s hard out there for a fella like me, I gotta tell ya. See, when yer in my line, which I can’t get into in so many details for reasons I can’t elaborate, but suffice to say that what I do is OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE, so it’s like that right? You know what I’m sayin’? Sure you do. Who don’t, right? ‘Cause it’s just that when yer line is, as I said, OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE, things start to take on a different hue, if you get my meaning, by meaning of course I mean that even the little things in yer life take on a significance OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE. Like if you have a burrito and it don’t sit well and you gotta take a shit and now that shit, those minutes spent on the can, that gastric distress is now OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE. Yer loose stool, however greasy it is, and ill-timed, and all them brown and stinky details take on a real heavy weight because the fate of world hangs in the balance, right? And that can really lend one to take pause and ponder ’cause like I’m sayin’ here hypothetical or real-wise just takin’ a shit and dealing with the gripes and grumbles and lamenting the fact I paid good money for a cruddy lunch that has now taken on serious heavy geopolitical cum military industrial fare to say biblical relevance where the fate of the planet is hanging in the balance and yes, I know how bad I gotta get off the can but I can’t ’cause of the aforementioned gastric distress. So these are the things, you know these kinda situations and such, that keep you up at night when yer line is OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE. ‘Cause you just wanna get in there and do yer job and all that but you’ve got the trots, or whatever, maybe it’s something else of a personal nature, so no you don’t wanna talk about it, no one does, and no one wants to hear about it, not your diarrhea or skin condition or your roommate or your cellphone plan—I mean, of course, ’cause that’s all just gross conversation all around for different but eerily similar reasons regardless—and shouldn’t be readily or enthusiastically shared I know but damned if yer loose stool and bad credit and hasn’t become OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE. You’d think people oughta know. Or should they? Makes you think. But you’ve gotta do what you gotta do. That’s just the way of the put your pants one leg at a time workaday nine-to-five clock-in clock-out world OF GLOBAL IMPORTANCE.