Orange is the New Trump

It’s time to think about time; time to think about amount of time; namely your amount of time. Black/white…the fallacy of the excluded middle doesn’t exist for time…your time. Your time is either (strong word I know but I insist on using “either” –one or the other, not both) finite or infinite. No ands ifs or butts. Choose carefully. Weigh accordingly. Balance, Daniel son.

You know what, scratch that, I don’t want to talk about time anymore. Let’s talk about ear hair. Specifically the immense joy that comes from removing a short, almost subatomic ear hair with nothing but your fingernails and the kind of gritty perseverance that is usually reserved for describing an Olympic athlete. I always curse at my ear hair immediately after removal. “Yeah motherfucker, you can suck it, ear hair!” You see ear hair is a sign of, gulp, old age, double gulp. And age, old age, is the dying light against which I rage (song). And is there a better symbol of old age than a man’s ear hair? I think not. Ugly, foul, immoral, ear hair popping out horizontally, clad in black from a pasty white ear lobe drawing ALL kinds of attention…to…your age…and when we get deep and all profound about it…your…gulp…double gulp…time. Yes, time or in this particular case, my time…wrapped up in an ear hair or the oncoming onslaught of ear hairs…indicating, intimating, symbolizing, my time and lack thereof. That is why I curse the ear hair(s). Rage I will against time, and ear hair, by living. Furiously, living life the way life ought to be lived…in defiance of ear hair, in defiance of time…without limits, without thought of the end…of ear hair(s)…or life. I won’t brood over death, I’m too busy living, especially when I pluck ear hair(s).

But speaking of brooding…over death. I fear Donald Trump might have a legitimate shot at obtaining the nomination for the grand ole tanning party. The dude is so orange. So very orange. How does one get to be the color of combo cheese? Now, truth be told, Combos are delicious treats but I don’t think Mr. Trump is covered in combo cheese for if he were, there wouldn’t be a need to all this hullabaloo. You are covered in Combo cheese? Great, you get the nomination.

Speaking of nominations, what is going on with the Oscars? Diversity is of value, be it gene health or music, or diet, or sexual partners in especially quick relationships. The Oscars are subjective awards for art. You don’t have to major in philosophy with a concentration in aesthetics to know that determining what is good or bad art is subjective; the same goes for best picture, director, actress, etc. Could it be that railing about the diversity in subjective award nominations is tantamount to treating the symptoms and ignoring the disease? 

Speaking of disease, what the hell is going on with Donald Trump? It’s like he has agent orange from Nam. Didn’t he get out of Nam because of his squash league at the health club? I digress, Combos are a delicious treat.