Yesterday the Sippican longed for something beautiful. People seem to be screwing that up mostly by looking for too much detail. It has to be a beach, an empty beach, an empty beach at sunset, an empty beach at sunset with three and a quarter margaritas already gulped. Too many criteria. Or they act like they've taken a frying pan to the head and go running straight to something ugly, like an underfed lingerie model with a purse-dog. Preening is vanity, not beauty. Nature's beasts have their garish displays for attracting mates - celebrities aren't even the beasts, they're just the displays. They're the inflamed and swollen asses of our baboon culture.
Man has gone from cave paintings to hieroglyphics to frescoes to flat-panel televisions. The record of our era of civilization will be DVR playbacks of some show called "The Girls Next Door." Bravo, I suppose, if we are simply to be remembered as a people who placed its highest value on having fun, however a television producer might define it.
It all probably has something to do with fear of aging. Everyone has it, but too many have it matched with the crippling misconception that only youth is beautiful. Not so. Museums are kept for a reason. The museums of our youth are our children. They are holding something in them, something that looks a lot like what we once were. They are our cave paintings and hieroglyphics and frescoes, keeping the record of everything beautiful in us, even if we are just flat-panel televisions to them for now.
8 comments:
The record of our era of civilization... show called "The Girls Next Door."
Well, that depends on where future archaeologists look, no? The sheer bulk of the evidence will bear you out, I suppose, but there's also the Hubble telescope and its output, DVRs of Ken Burns' "National Parks," fast cars, F-22s, and all the every-day, wonderful techno-gadgets we take for granted. That ain't nuthin' and all those things are a lot more than "Dancing With the Stars."
As for fear of aging... the process really ain't so bad. It's kinda fun, actually. I can tell ya: there ain't much to fear, as long as your health holds out.
Andy, you seem like a guy who listens much and talks little. But when you do talk you actually have something to say. A rare commodity these days. Nice post.
Underfed models with purse-dogs and baboon ass culture. Love it. Will likely spread these phrases through my circle of acquaintance. :)
You numbah one. We love you long time.
Well, that picture's something beautiful, so I guess I'm alright now.
It's a regular who's who of the good guys around here today.
Have a wonderful week, friends. I am off to the tundra! Inter-search away for Stony Rapids, Saskatchewan, if'n you're curious where I might be freezin'.
"...the inflamed and swollen asses of our baboon culture."
Andy, that line is literally an instant classic.
I just had this conversation with my cousin - she is a healthy normal size and wasn't looking forward to going to a Christmas party where the women are all size 0 at best.
This was a PERFECT blog post Andy!
... how apropos - word verification of the day: wings
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