filthgeek

out drinking at the bar tonight i found myself waxing philisophical (with myself) about meaning and symbolism. conversations fly about me from business professionals about cell phones and technology; the jocks and "white hats" from the bar across the street scream in my ear about jager bombs and other testosterone fueled nonsense; and the girls high on male attention only seem eager to acknowledge me when i ignore them. all the while i fixate upon an Underdog toy on the shelf behind the bar. of course! the underdog...the most simple symbol of the triumphant victory of the underappreciated. everything makes sense. he was strategically placed for my arrival. order amongst chaos. Underdog, my only friend next to my ale, told me to keep on keepin on. a calm washes over me as i feel that while most of the time nobody gives a shit...i shall eventually overcome the odds and save the day...whatever that means. but then my eyes wander more. i see mr potato head. what the fuck? what was briefly a significant period of enlightenment, has turned into arbitrary nonsense. what the fuck could mr potato head respresent in the grand sceme of things? if underdog has a purpose then mr potato head should too! does he want me to change my face depending on what someone else wants to see? nonsense. too easy. its the personification of the inanimate. a fucking potato that has a face, ladies and gentlemen, nothing more. symbols and meaning are random, depending on what needs to be understood at the time. when looking for a connection to the world, anything can be understood as meaningful and significant, but it doesnt necessarily mean that it is. so fuck you mr potato head, i was happier without you.