Superbia (Pride) by Pieter Bruegel The Elder. 1577.
Marco Richards was slated for bigger and greater things. He had it going on. There’s no denying it; he was full of moxie and chutzpah. What Einstein was for modern physics (The science, not the latest sex manual from Ikea™), Marco was for humanity. He was the last sparkle of a can of Coca-Cola® rapidly going flat. Sadly, like so many protagonists, he had one major flaw that would deny him from his destiny.
Thank God we are not responsible for our ancestors. Can you imagine having to apologize for all the stupid things they did?
Shape-wise, not as sexy as Florida, but very practical.
Dear Lord,
I know it’s been a spell since we last spoke like this, aside from the more than rare damn it, sakes, for the love of, and fuck me a new eyehole. For using your name in such flippant vain, forgive me. Just so we’re clear, I’m pretty sure we are good now. After all, that’s your thing: forgive and forget. Or was that Shakespeare? I digress.
SPOILER ALERT: Is that the same stuff they make kickballs out of?
Perspective can be a preposterous subject. For example, if we go back 20 years to 1997, and pitched the idea of a reality TV personality becoming the President of the United States of America, you would have a sit-com appropriate for NBC’s must-see Thursday night. Keep in mind, 1997 had these reality shows: Real World, Cops, America’s Most Wanted, The Crocodile Hunter, Expedition Robinson, and the WWF.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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