We actually know a tremendous amount. We constantly doubt ourselves, our knowledge, but it’s unjustified. We think we should read more. We should probably google some of those guys in the news, or at least where they come from. Although we already know, it’s not close to here. We might be uninformed, but we’re not stupid.
We pick our battles. We’re not trying to debate. There’s too much out there. Too many Prime Ministers, too many countries, too many emaciated orphans, too many religions, too many types of tomatoes, too many new bands, too many movies, too many wars, too many people trying to park on our street.
We know about medicine. Red wine can be good for us. Moderation is really good for us. The sun is not good for us. Antiperspirant is not good for us. Sitting is not good for us. Croissants aren’t good for us, but kale is. Raw kale. Raw carrots. Raw squash. Raw zucchini. Raw milk. Raw mustard. Raw, moderately consumed red wine. We must stress moderation.
These are moderate times, which call for moderate measures. Don’t forget that. We won’t. We’re taking stuff for our memory, every night and every morning.
If doesn’t come in the pill form, we’re really not that interested.
We’d like a goodnight’s sleep. Pill, please.
We’ve gotta stay up all night studying Mandarin/boozing/breastfeeding. Pill me.
Meditation retreat: we need to smile, we need to relax, we need to love the way we feel. Here’s a pill—might need to snort this one.
Feeling sick? Pill.
Not feeling sick, but getting a sickly feeling that you might feel sick if you don’t take something? Here’s one for the anxiety and we’ll throw in a probiotic—on the house, no problem—the least we could do. Sign here.
We’re really stressed. There’s so much bad shit going on in the world. And we’re getting fatter—all of us. Except those orphans; wherever they are. They’re getting skinnier. Which is depressing. Starving orphans don’t know what it’s like to spend their lives on the Elliptical and still look like whale. We’re depressed and we’re also getting fatter, which is making it difficult to watch the news, or to get off the couch, or to eat kale. Raw.
If we weren’t so tired and fat we’d send those orphans some kale. But we realize starving orphans probably have a PO Box or a hotmail account. Starving orphans probably couldn’t accept the kale even if we sent it to them. In a lot of ways, starving orphans are lucky. I mean, who really likes kale?
Exchanging Pleasantries 
