Party Rock Anthem by LMFAO

Those of us that are not slaves to our smart phones--those of us that have taken the time to master mnemonic devices know that the sooner civilization collapses, the faster our horde of loyal simpletons will raid an outlet mall and help us form a post-apocalyptic royal court to [cause other people to] die for.

The romantic cultural deceiver, however, tries to illicit a nostalgia for some trite perfection. At a recent tea party I attended, a tender-hearted ass attempted such a tactic:

"Remember when we sent signals to each other that journeyed beyond the dual nature of the erection?" he said.

I booed him immediately. I threw my lemon cake at him and I just booed. Other people followed suit. I was so tired of people trying to talk sense.

Please note how they transcend the noise in this image.

The secret truth is that shit-artist's like LMFAO are well versed in the horrible truths like Hume's Critique on Induction and Godel's Incompleteness Theorem and that the Lost writers had no idea what they were doing for six seasons.

Those of us that know the void and are at peace with it hear the idealists whines and have REQUESTED for our music to get more compressed and inundated and DEVOID of meaning. 

Meaning, dear reader, is a lie. 

LMFAO are doing us all a favor.

If I had been more patient, I would have slowly put my arm around his shoulder, pulled out my phone, and showed him where to watch all the conspiracy videos and Wikipedias he needs to get with the program. But I was and am exhausted of such fiends trying to summon the void on what was a pleasant afternoon.

Instead, my fellow picnic goers and I continued to stone him with our tea desserts as he went on to talk about his idealistic garbage.

Glaring at him,I pulled out my phone and started playing a barely audible version of "Party Rock Anthem." I arose, aroused. I grabbed the nearest woman and began to bump and grind. 

I shouted at him, on the verge of tears, hips thrusting and swaying, "CAN WE NOT HAVE SOME TRIVIAL PLEASURE AMONGST THIS VOID, SIR? MUST YOU RUIN EVERYTHING? YOU CAN NEVER RUIN THIS."

I grabbed her and impassionedly made out with her as we continued our nihilistic dance.  My fellow picnickers had their cellphones out, recording their real Cultural Hero defending their inalienable right to destroy the reception of knowledge when it gets annoying.

Those of us that know the rules of survival understand that even when society crumbles, there will always be a trash fire to grunt conversation around. So why worry? What is there to defend other than the right album to pretend to like at parties?