Just ef why aye, the title of this post is considered one of the most commonly misquoted lines in all of literature. It actually has nothing to do with what I'm about to say, and everything to do with dystopian societies, suicide and crazed, uncivilized savages.
On that note, I suppose I ought to establish my niche in the blogger world. My own little nook for my own--quite public--blathering.
Here at The Fluky Jive, we do pretty much whatever we want. Unlike the act of pooping, we try not to spew forth uninformed nonsense. Instead, we illuminate subtleties in our eclectic collection of pop-culture references and entertainment media. So think illumination and enlightenment. Not poop. Poop = bad. Illumination and enlightenment = good.
Don't get me wrong, most of what I say is nonsensical in the sense that the larger context is often ignored.
To illustrate, let me briefly explain my fascination with space pickles:
Example Space Pickle
When I was young, feral and illiterate, I used to draw pictures of space pickles--normal pickles with red capes. (Presumably, the red capes enabled the pickles to fly.) These space pickle adventures always took place in class. I would draw them in comics, or doodle them flying across my notes. More often than not, terrible things would happen to these space pickles.
Example Space Pickle Comic Strip
In essence, my space pickles endured everything horrible for me. I didn't have to deal with anything in real life. And this was a great relief. They entertained me, they spontaneously imploded, and then they flew away. All was well in the world of Stanza Marloch.
In the grand scheme of things, space pickles don't really matter. But they were funny and mildly entertaining, and they refocused my energy toward something constructive.
You simply have to treasure these little things, as well as the spirit in which they implode.
Welcome to The Fluky Jive!
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