Friday the 13th. Does this actually mean anything? Where did this superstition about how unlucky this day is even begin? I’m fairly sure even the most cursory Google search would furnish me with a plethora of answers but Google is all the way over the other side of the screen. I would have to leave the comforting, if judgemental, white glow of the empty ‘New Post’ box.
Plus, I know if I start typing ‘fr’ into Google, the first thing it would do is suggest free pornography and I do not need that kind of hassle in my life.
No, it is better to live in ignorance about these things. Better not to ask questions. If you do not know any information, you have nothing to give away whilst under duress.
Live in the dark. Like a mushroom or Matthew Horne.
Here is a poem.
have a bath in baked beans
if that means you’ll feel better
for five minutes. Get right in it.
Not in your pants.
It doesn’t make in rude
to be nude in a staple food of the poor.
Let baked bean displacement
send three tins worth
flowing over the edge to the floor.
Oh how we adore you for sitting
in a bath of baked beans.
But don’t forget what all of this means
when you’re lying in their baked beans
with a TV crew filming you
when you have a new album
or film or something out in a month.