Poor Professor Pynchon had only good intentions when he put his Bunsen burners all away, and turned into a playground a Petri dish of single cells that swing their fists at anything that looks like easy prey in this nature show that rages every day. It was bound, a part his intuition, to say that we are all basically alone. Despite what all the studies had shown, what was mistaken for closeness was just a case of mitosis. Weighed deception or mercy while others are paying for the shot. Well, tell me doctor, can you pull my file? I just want to know the reason why.
There are about a billion different interpretations of this song, and most of them make sense in one way or another. All I can say is props to Mr. Bird for incorporating mitosis into a song. It’s probably not easy. I couldn’t do it.
I just wanted to share this with everyone.
On a different note: I’ve been reading erotica for the last week, and I’ve come to a conclusion.
My conclusion is thus- Most of the erotica I’ve read involved an insane physical attraction, followed by copious amounts of insane sex, followed by love.
Lust+monkey sex=love?
What?
Aside from being print porn for literate people with imaginations, erotica is basically a womans wish fulfilled. Great sex where you orgasm every time, sexy men, and love. Pure, passionate love.
And I guess that makes sense. Except, in that order, things will never happen. I’m skeptical about sex then love. Or, more specifically, sex causing you to fall in love with someone.
I don’t know. It seems too…..something.
Josh told me a story today:
“Once upon a time, there was a beautiful velociraptor by the name of Canned Ice. She was the best of all the other velociraptors. She snuck around her prey like a fucking ninja out of one of those ninja movies, you know, the ones from Japan? Anyways, one day, she was in the forrest, and wouldn’t you know, there was a man. “I must have him” she thought. Although, it is debatable as to whether or not dinosaurs were capable of thinking in English, but that’s for another story. Anyway, so there she was, ninja-ing around this dude, when BAM got fucking hit by a car. But the magical genie of the sky saw this and felt sorry for her, so he lent her his own genie power so that she could live. And so, Canned Ice, the Geninjasaur was born.”
I’m stressed now. I’m done.
March 28th, 2011 at 10:58 pm
Best. Story. Ever.