...on burning

...in which we discuss how the bastard doesn't understand shit


the bastard was getting ready to tip out for the evening.

and i found this little gem on gawker about burning man

and it got me to thinking.

what

the

fuck?

i mean, i had this conversation once about marketing.

you see, the boy, knew what brand of car i drove.

knew what kind of coffee i drank.

how is this?

he knew the logos. at his most toddlery, my son knew what marketing was. i was momentarily worried about this but then i thought that the only thing one could do to get away from this is to quit the world.

go off the grid.

and never look back.

and i used to think that burning man was something like this.

but i got older and realized that it may very well be about.


you guessed it.

marketing.

look, the bastard may be taking this shit out of context but it seems to me that as much as i like the idea of running around in the desert for labor day weekend in naked in the desert (hint: i don't), burning man seems like an excuse for art students and dumpy cosplay people to get half naked and play pretend mad max post apocolyptic cosplay.

yeah, i know that there's art and all but, when i was young it was billed as some

life changing,

world changing,

conciousness changing event but quite like woodstock,

it ain't

i mean a festival is fine. hell, a renaissance fair is nice too but, it just seems like an excuse to get naked and get covered in gypsum dust and get high. its ok if you like that sort of shit but, the bastard is starting to sound too much like andy rooney so i'm gonna go home and drink now.

—the bastard