The Rules Are All Made Up

[Shot Time]

"What are you supposed to be doing?" My professor threw at me. What was I supposed to be doing?

"You write as if there are rules, and there are a couple rules - mostly to make sure people can understand you. Standards." I nodded. Where was he going with this?

"But your essay - it's perfectly fine. Perfunctory. But I'm bored. You haven't really told me anything. You explained it."

There was a small silence in the summer air. The rest of the class had left. I started to wonder if I had wasted 2 months on this paper.

"The rules are all made up Shot Time. Show me what you can do."

---

That was 20 years ago. I often think about this exchange. I ended up completely rewriting that paper and to this day it's my favorite thing I've ever written, and most of it is centered around making a certain pasta dish. Now I'm ripping beers on a Friday morning listening to music. I have a bunch of reports to write, my kitchen is dirty. By many metrics, I am wasting this day and shirking some sort of responsibility that we all join, without consent. Like a credit report. But, the rules are all made up.

If you don't do exactly what you want, you are wasting the little gleam of consciousness that you've borrowed from the universe.

[Artful Drunktective]

That was 20 years ago. I often think about this exchange. I ended up completely rewriting that paper and to this day it's my favorite thing I've ever written, and most of it is centered around making a certain pasta dish. Now I'm ripping beers on a Friday morning listening to music. I have a bunch of reports to write, my kitchen is dirty. By many metrics, I am wasting this day and shirking some sort of responsibility that we all join, without consent. Like a credit report. But, the rules are all made up.

If you don't do exactly what you want, you are wasting the little gleam of consciousness that you've borrowed from the universe.

If you are ripping beers on a Friday morning while listening to music, you are not wasting the day! Embrace it. Those who are at work on Friday would envy your borrowed waste of gleaming consciousness. Cheers to Friday morning beers!

[oettinger]

I want that pasta recipe! If that professor kept it I might get angry.

Morning beers calm tempers

[Rye and Coke]

"What are you supposed to be doing?" My professor threw at me. What was I supposed to be doing?

"You write as if there are rules, and there are a couple rules - mostly to make sure people can understand you. Standards." I nodded. Where was he going with this?

"But your essay - it's perfectly fine. Perfunctory. But I'm bored. You haven't really told me anything. You explained it."

There was a small silence in the summer air. The rest of the class had left. I started to wonder if I had wasted 2 months on this paper.

"The rules are all made up Shot Time. Show me what you can do."

---

That was 20 years ago. I often think about this exchange. I ended up completely rewriting that paper and to this day it's my favorite thing I've ever written, and most of it is centered around making a certain pasta dish. Now I'm ripping beers on a Friday morning listening to music. I have a bunch of reports to write, my kitchen is dirty. By many metrics, I am wasting this day and shirking some sort of responsibility that we all join, without consent. Like a credit report. But, the rules are all made up.

If you don't do exactly what you want, you are wasting the little gleam of consciousness that you've borrowed from the universe.

Jesus, dude! You got me wanting to fist fight a tiger, while riding into war on the back of a hippo. Someone get me a goddamn drink!

[Patchez]

This isn't Nam Smokey. There are rules.

[Artful Drunktective]

^ ^ ^ Those rich f***s! This whole f***ing thing... I did not watch my buddies die face down in the muck so that this f***ing strumpet...

[scream ale]