The Useless Critic 2.0

Take your mom to see Thor . Marvel at Chris Hemsworth or Natalie Portman or both. I mean, it's your choice, and I'm not judging. Make her listen to Tyler the Creator with you. If there's anything Mom is sure to love, it's lyrics like: I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some Marvin (What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley robbing them I'll crash that fucking airplane that that faggot nigga B.o.B is in And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus And won't stop until the cops come in I'm an over achiever, so how about I start a team of leaders And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver? Take her to Applebee's or Red Lobster or Chili's WHICHEVER SHE LIKES. TODAY IS HER DAY. Tell her you admire her for having a human come out of her vagina, because that's not ever happening here (points to self). Make her watch the "Judas" video: count all pop culture references! WASH YOUR FEET WITH MY HAIR...

Cattleyas! Odette had a habit of wearing them when first becoming acquainted with Swann, although Proust never mentions anything further about them; this freedom of interpretation is having me feel lost, contextually. Not a single word regarding colour, petals, which particular sub-species that particular evening’s cattelya belongs to which would then inevitably segue into several pages of tangential reverie which could have contained a flourish regarding the orchidaceae family as a whole and how this is directly related to the frescoes painted within a certain chapel, of which he has a certain fondness. Anyway, cattleyas are regarded as the orchids most evocative of love because, as many flower websites are tactfully insinuating and, as I just updated the cattleya wikipedia entry to note, they look like vaginas even though I’m not really “seeing it” despite, to compare and contrast, looking-up those weird diagrams from fifth grade. Maybe this is like one of those photos of a lamp ev...