And open containers in the garden breed mosquitos.
Idioms are just idiots misspelled. Two's company, three's a crowd and four's an orgy... you know, that sort of thing.
And so, inevitably, we come to yet another annual Week of the Walking Brain-dead. Malaysia's favorite Weapon of Mass Distraction. A week of glorified brown-nosing in the name of race and religion. Complete with talking Zam-bies. Silent discontent breeds dogma. But our collective karma will run over their dogma any 'ol day, n'cest pas?
Confused? Well, welcome to the club. Walski needs a break from life. No, not the pop a whole bottle of painkillers type of break from reality - that's a permenant hotel check-out, if you catch his drift.
Call it a mid-life crisis, seven years early. Or just suppressed teenage angst returning with a vengance. Or maybe just being tired of the same 'ol, same 'ol... the familiar fermenting in your psyche to eventually make you feel contemptous of everything you've become, longing for something else you should've been.
Contempt for the expectations that will never come to pass. And contempt for the many things that you know you'll never be able to clutch. Life may be a bed of roses, but to flourish, roses need a lot of manure.
So life, in reality, done right, is a bed of manure. Bullshit. Lots of it. Through and through.
(mental diarrhoea, and more, in the full post)
And there's a lot of bullshit to be contemptous about. Like how if you're born a particular color and flavor, the expectation is that you must behave that particular color and flavor your entire existence, and go through the motions so that you belong to that collective of color and flavor. Raisin muffins can never taste like cheesecake - something along those lines. No matter how much raisins you may add to it, it still tastes like cheesecake. But try adding cheese to raisin muffins, on the other hand, and you have a culinary mess.
What about the bullshit that any attempt to exact change, no matter for what reason, right or wrong, is to be met with disdain and lazy labelling? That challenging the status quo is akin to apostasy? When did this bullshit get born all of a sudden?
Or is it just life, imitating a bed of roses?
Walski needs a sabbatical from life... the bullshit that comes with the bed of roses is starting to overwhelm him. Making him contemptous of everything that's expected to be familiar.
The familiar container that breeds hoardes of contemptous mosquitos, ever eager to suck the living daylights from a parched, dried up, sorry excuse of what most people would call life...
And this life, it seems, is becoming more like a sentence.
Walski's stolen picture credit and mixing metaphors footnote: Original image used above came from here. Mixing metaphors, and coming up with new ones, fit for purpose, is something Walski often does. And it's fun to do... Like Forest Gump would likely say, were Walski in his shoes, "Life is a box of manure - you never know what roses you're gonna get".