Werk

What do you do? I write memes. What’s a meme? Another reason to look at my iPhone. Why is that? Why not? πŸ‘πŸ»

I hear a lot of “they” and “them” accompanying the cries of repression in the media. The media, albeit a powerful weapon in popular culture, isn’t important to the #cabinporn crowd. I wonder if Davey Crockett were alive in 2016 he’d be at all fascinated by Kim K’s 42M Twitter followers. Say what you want about the no-talent reality bots, it’s basically the same thing as hunting and killing dinner and carrying it back to the cabin to eat. Survival. Doing whatever it takes. Marine logic. Anyone stands in the way gets what’s coming to them. Β The Wild West and Wall Street may wear different drag but the finish line is the same. To stay in the game you betta #werk.

I like Instagram more than Twitter. One would think the opposite since Twitter allows the NC-17 imagery that Instagram caps at PG-13 (or at least until a SJW reports the offensive leg uncrossing). SJW is a Social Justice Warrior and most of them are members of the dreaded Milenial Generation of the arbitrarily offended. Thin-skin-ism. Comes with its own manbun and app tracker for the most uses of the word “like” in a minute/hour/day. But at 47 I’m supposed to say this shit because my 20’s are long gone and I’m a bitter cunt hydroplaning towards complete social obscurity. Damn right! Pick a finger as long as it’s in the middle.

Yesterday I returned with my helicopter friend to the city from a nice and short visit with my aunt and uncle in Southampton to go to my new fav Thai place for lunch with a friend in Chelsea. He ordered my fav Drunken Noodle so to be a sore sport and not wanting to appear inauthentic I ordered FRIED RICE and chicken. Feeding the swell! We did some shopping and walked to the West Village where I furiously took pics of realtor signs and, of course, myself. Every time I see an old lady creep out of a desirous building I wonder how much rent she pays and if she were to, I don’t know, somehow die in front of me how difficult it would be to assume her identity and still keep paying the same small amount of rent. As Judy Tenuda would say, it could happen. Sitting in Starbucks across from the Stonewall looking at iPhones the Scruff and Grindr guys furiously ignoring each other, we talked sporadically (still looking at iPhones) about feeling better being back in the city. Better in a queer neighborhood. Safe. At home. Rainbows everywhere. Take a stand or fall for anything. Isn’t that what some of those memes say? Still wondering what a meme is. I’ve taken to calling myself Michael instead of Mike. Sounds sophisticated, right? And most take it apon themselves to call me Michael anyway. It’s the sainted Angelic cherubic features of my face. Pinch my cheeks. Those too. Gurl Bye🍌. Werk.

Then, are you ready for this? Then, I was cajoled into taking the subway to Grand Central where I needed to buy some Apple stuff. I kept my eyes closed the whole time. Haven’t been on the subway since about 2007. Even with my eyes closed I could tell nothing has changed. $4 more for an Uber in the same amount of time. The man in the moon is a bitch. Today I’m being cajoled again (team player) to go t o Williamsberg Brooklyn to shop at the Paul Smith store there. Can’t even describe how little I look forward to this. But being a real New Yorker means developing the gag reflex. Yeah, that’s a gay olde double entendre. Mother said find a skill! Oh, I did. Off to Brooklyn. Byee.

 

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