Mallory's Camera

You get that dodgy feeling when you’ve been sitting around the house too long without going outside. Like something’s not quite right with your stomach.

But I’m going to Handel’s Messiah at the Bardavon today, which (one assumes) will take care of that.

Eight hundred human voices rising in song!

Uplifting even if not in the way that Handel intended it.

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What else?

I Remunerated mightily yesterday while the icy rain continued to fall.

I read this article here, and thought, Oh yes. EXCELLENT trend.

Given the degree to which adolescents long to differentiate themselves from their parents, I'm surprised this isn't a more popular movement. But maybe it is! Since these kids avoid social media, and all journalists ever do is sit around their computers in dirty undershirts, scrolling through Twitter and scratching their balls—wait! More than half those journalists are female. What is the female equivalent of “scratching their balls”?—journalists wouldn’t know they exist and so, wouldn’t report on them.

I’m also predicting that tattoos are gonna go defunct in much the same way that the hippie aesthetic went defunct as more and more Gen Z-ers equate them with a dinosaur demographic.

(Well, not entirely. But full sleeves are gonna stop being a style thing.)

Back when I had the Little Store, the number of people sporting Harley Davison paraphernalia who wandered into the store always used to amaze me. Sometimes I asked them about it.

Each and every one of my respondents was absolutely convinced that their choice of identical Harley Davison paraphernalia branded them as a rugged individualist.

Go figure.

I suppose when there are 8 billion people struggling to share a planet, tribal branding is the only identity you can hope for. Mimetics in action!