#Kitsch

Sitting in a pub at 3 in the afternoon, finishing off the last gasp of a lunch special & a beer, casually feeling like you're in the background of a cult movie as faux honkytonk music pipes pseudo blues guitar chords & lyrics around the place, a fitting moment to enhance the BBQ you just inhaled as meals tend to be few & far between from all the traveling... easy conversations to be had so long as you don't have any skill or desire to discuss anything beyond repetitive pop culture references... illusion only shattered by the lack of cigarette smoke not creating a diffuse film over everything you see & hear... casual look around reveals families with children sitting directly underneath massive neon signs showing remarkably toxic drink specials, programming the next generation with bright colors, reminiscent of watching puppets dance gaily around a flagon full of vivid toxic waste as if it's The Magical Elixir Which Leads To Eternal Paradise... All of this turns reality into a sitcom location, used by the customers to pretend they're made of True Grit, a salty character of the earth in shopping mall clothes, subconsciously playing at feeling down & dirty while scarfing down various mystery meats covered in brand names.... strange looks from the winos outside, confused at seeing what looks like a local dive bar that's been copied & co-opted by a chain simply looking for the Next Big Thing... marketable destitution is a Hot Property, Rich is the new Poor, let's make hopelessness a desirable status symbol - after all, it's easily attainable... genius threatens the status quo, makes others lose faith in their place in life.... let's beat them down by telling everyone it's bad to feel good about victories, as such preening could be interpreted as elitist & turn the whole town against you for "having ideas above your station"... turn pain into passion & then sell it back to us as fashion, make everyone feel better about feeling worse, everyone's broke anyway so it's almost a public service, we're all saints of our sins... ah, such cynicism... far too much for such a beautiful day outside, where you'll need to go if you want to enjoy a cigarette - ironically sans beer, because one can only get away with a single vice at a time in this Bold New World - when everyone who's anyone knows vices are always more rewarding when combined... but in moderation, after all it's the ones who can't handle their personal voluntary synaptic machine-gunning who have caused us all to have some of our best - or at least, most enjoyable - ammo taken away... Bah, this is too dark of a place to hang out in one's head, probably overthinking things again, pay it no heed... finish typing, nurse that last sip of beer just long enough to find the end of this nonsense, get outside, have that smoke, pretend to counter-rebel against the monoculture while intentionally ignoring the fact we just paid them hard-earned cash to experience yet another slice of it... definitive hubris, totally illogical, subtly obvious, altho not so noticeable that it prevents itself to be used as a desirable kitsch for this restaurant... can't lie, tho, the ribs were good stuff, and the beer adds a nice little bite to the aftertaste...