time will tell
I prefer Dirty Willie Cosby to Will Smith.
Though puddin pop is about as awful as a person can be based on his history of drugging and raping women, his cadence and comic timing adds more to the culture than Smith’s roguish charm.
Smith grosses me out.
First of all, he’s in the cult created by a science fiction writer who seemed to create his cult on a dare.
Next?
Dude has no sense of humour.
Even more, what he did to Chris Rock was about the ugliest thing I’ve been willing to watch on network television in years.
What’s worse though?
He popularized the phrase Smell ya later
The statement begs a torrent of questions: What part of me will you be smelling later? How did you obtain my scent? When will you be smelling me and what will you be doing when you’re smelling me?
The only people who use the phrase smell you later are dirty perverts.
Not really.
You likely have used the phrase.
And it was fun calling you a dirty pervert.
But smell and pleasure go hand in hand and groin to mouth to groin to hand to mouth to mouth.
When I met my Laura, we took our time figuring out how our values alligned and whether or not we ‘fit’ each other. On thing was clear right away to me. She smells like magic.
We grow used to smells. The front entry to our house smells like a barn. All of our footwear stink of shit and piss and mold and mud.
It’s fucking glorious.
I never really notice most of the time. Last week though, I spent a few days at the cottage. By the time I got home, my nose had lost its memory of the stinky entry way. Holy smokes! The place friggin’ stinks!
It’s glorious! I love it.
When Laura came home after a few years in Japan, she found that North Americans stank of rotten vegetable oil and sour dairy. In japan upon arriving she remarked that everything smelt slightly sour, fermented and pickled.
On of the most important, yet least emphasized ways we make contact with each other is through scent. How we smell communicates so much of what’s going on within us. We’ve lost our ability to decipher this as humans.
These days, we do everything we can to hide our smells and the messages they deliver. Instead, we opt for corporate, centralized controlled odours as provided by the petrochemical industry.
Ad-pervertisers use shame to drive sales.
I say?
Fuck them.
Don’t wear any D.O. and go to the gym after eating a shit tonne of garlic.
Walk through grocery stores skipping and farting at the apex of each and every bounce.
But take care!
Some farts may not be as advertised.
You could hold back.
Or.
You could bring a bag with some wipes and a spare pare of underpants.
The old ones can be left behind.
