The right fielders are at it again, and they are driving me insane. Do this, don’t do that, follow me, don’t follow them, listen to me, don’t listen to them – it’s exhausting.
They are also the reason why I rarely ever leave the Fortress of Imagination, turn on the TV, or read the news. There be some crazy peps in the world and I am afraid.
Neptunian logic, much like Plutonian logic, is comparative to the circular twaddle of linguistics that are implemented by right fielders. Basically, they use a never ending shit-swirl of double-talk babble to fool the masses. They live in the In Between World where whatever fits for the moment, they say it and they own it.
Trying to be relevant when you’re irrelevant is an eccentric activity of irrefutable madness. But yet, the irrelevant endeavor to persevere.
In other news, the Fortress of Imagination was recently assaulted by super-charged, pint sized human organisms, ages 6, 4, & 2 – all boys. (The Grandchildren!) During their 8-day invasion, I attempted to communicate with the hyper-active demons, hoping to persuade them not to destroy my humble domicile. I failed miserably. I was unable to crack the code of their sophisticated language. Other tactics were employed, but my outdated techniques proved to be ineffective.
|I did not know this rule existed|
While the battle raged, I was plunged into the ‘In Between World’ – duct tape them to the wall or smother the vicious, demon attackers with hugs. The duct tape gambit was suppressed by two angry giants. Dammit!
After their miniature crusade, luckily, the Fortress still stood. The scars of warfare, however, soiled the hallowed halls: Broken glass, decapitated teddy bears, torn books, grape juice spots on the carpet, unrecognizable chalk pictures on the bricks, and the grounds, they are littered with the remnants of a thousand shattered water balloons.
|In the end, I stood alone against the horde!|
The dirty job of rebuilding and repairing the Fortress will take weeks; I doubt it will ever be the same. The heroic 2016 conflict, where many a good stuffed animals lay buried, may be just another footnote in the history books, but it shall never be forgotten. I intend to memorialize the fallen with a huge stone and a plaque so that all will know of the brave toys who risked their fluffiness to defend the Fortress of Imagination!
Have a Great Week!