Futuristic Remorse

I have lapsed as a Yearbook historian, y’all. I forgot (or rather, to state the crime in full measure, pretended to forget) to reflect on the Futurist performance art dinner I went to a week ago as part of the Capitol Fringe Festival.

All attendees to this eccentric event got to wear special robes, be treated like numnuts, and experience everything from vegetable-scented air to Magic Food, which was mysterious white pellets that could alternately taste horrible, adequate, or palatable. In other words, it was a beyond blogworthy experience, but I just didn’t even know where to start when I tried writing about it. At first I beat myself up about it. But instead of feeling beat up, I actually felt upbeat.

In case you’re still curious, the review I linked to gives a fuller recap than I could write plus it made me laugh for a myriad of reasons (try reading it out loud in silly voices).

Well, anyhowser, I went outside and got some fresh air.

And I decided that even though I was more or less OK with my debatably regrettable actions, perhaps an apology to my readership/Mom was still in order. So I cobbled something together hastily.

Don’t be mad!

In fact, how could you stay mad when I present to you the ultimate combo of




P.S. Now that we’re friends again, here’s something. Taxicabs now have TVs embedded in the back of the front seat so the passengers can have leisure time (even though it’s only business news). Not all of them. But still!


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