Marvellous.

Dearest blog readers, ye of few and prominent: Brie Larson is boring.

Sure, she’s, literally, a 10.7568 on a scale of 0-10 human, but I mean... Brie... ya boring. i don’t even care if I would arm wrestle a wookie to be in your arms enwraptured within a fit of passion for any length of whatever moments: you’re boring. Boo.

So whatever, Grimes was at your premier (by the way, Akh Faernaa if you’re reading I’ve been chasing my left leg to a broadstroked coincidence marked by a shiny black space-elf star shell... to the ends of Caladaan and, unlike Azalea, Twitchitt and I would never bitch out on a foursome with Dr. Manhattan and the girl who inspired me to use garageband back in ‘08.)

But, it’s past time now. X, right?

I’m in the back of a movie theatre in North Shore Hawai’i with some genius friends Twitchitt and I met when someone mentioned, aloud, “True Master.” 

I was like, who me? That was Friday. Maybe. 

Elon: subject of our recent collective AC obsession... I have this pitch for you. See, I’m a designer and my little (younger) brother is disabled. We’re at a robot-legs type point in history. Maybe you can hop on the Show train and vice versa. You got all the cykik movies—get at me. Send a car.

On the subject of Sheraton hotels: eat a dick.

What part of anonymity don’t people understand? Hey poolboy, my jacket cost a month of your salary so settle down before I take you down homie. Peg ass motherfucking plastic condocreep boxclimber. Fuck off.

Back to Brie because she’s a giant image in front my my head. I’m a creep for you like Radiohead, baby. Holla back with an NDA and prospect my DNA. Props on Captain Marvel. Stan Left me to the keys to the mansion, though. Sorry ‘boutchya beautiful booty chika cheetah cheeks, booboo. 

Honolulew Part 1

How did HappyMan learn to fly? 

Impenetrable, invulnerable feather skin.

His race class has evolved past the ideology of defense mechanisms thereby having created a dimension void of cleromancy.

(Cleromancy is a form of sortition, casting of lots, in which an outcome is determined by means that normally would be considered random, such as the rolling of dice, but are sometimes believed to reveal the will of God, or other supernatural entities. [Wikipedia])

The bluff: My hotel and restaurant rating blog clocked 1 million hits this month alone. 

The con: free food and shelter.

Why it works(ed): it started today.

How we do: we fucking ball. 

Controversializing a divided nation

C:/ America: the democratic republic split in half. Undivisible? Nah. 100% divided 50/50. Democratic. Republican. Its probably a much older debate, though. 

Honolulu is “No Public Restroom”, HI. Mad potential; zero culturally interesting XP. Does anyone care about dolphin art? No, because 1996 already happened and every shred of fair/exhibition ring-toss garbage existed and was tossed out with glistening particle board.

Hawaii—Honolulu... ew. Just ew. 

If the art and clothing aren’t trashy Santa Monica condo-creep caught mid-pacific garbage, the tourist population is an undertow of what happens when people keep saying, “I can’t even draw stick figures.”

No style points out of ten. 

Airwaves are caught in Honolulu like a triangle: anti-graffiti sentiment posters (you know who you are) can eat eight octodicks and say ten hail Mary’s. Repulsed. 

I mist amidst the occasional crashing on hotel sofas because the concierge admits I look white and prominent so I must be there for a reason (you are never really poor in a Scabal blazer). One by one we wear their sofas a la second hand as an ultra-rich tapestry of specific-use human beings hum about in Japanese, Mandarin, and Korean. Mostly I love the high-end posters coaxing their beautiful woven eyelids with subpar white female models. Killer kawaii, Hawaii. 

All time best gimmick: children busking. Real talented rugrats hang onto keys like dangling from tree branches while all unclimbed super-trees are accented by lines of tents—an emerging subsociety rages and optional homelessness subsists within an economic category of its own undertaking. An addendum on gimmicks—you can’t have two children performers on the same boulevard; or, I mean, you can... but, the novelty is washed out with the tide.

Loiterer unfriendly sunny Honolulu is the perfect model of These United States: anxious for the division to result in its inevitable civil war during the next democratic term.

Next: Grimes—Role Model or Psychic Terrorist? JK bitxh.

Elon, dear. We must chat.