I got in my car yesterday and the Indigo Girls were singing “Closer to Fine,” which is an okay tune, I guess, but the Rasputin stanza always feels a bit forced, and the next thing you know, I’m feeling blue about my inability to just enjoy a song and forget about the lyrics. Thinking a little Coldplay might be more to my liking (and because I have the technology), instead of listening to the radio I clicked over to my ipod and found myself listening to “Yellow.” Again – an okay tune, but how can the entire world be bathed in a primary color? I clearly needed a passenger along for the ride – someone to chat with – sort of a Violet to my Lucy, you know?
Alas. I was stuck making the drive alone. In need of some sort of distraction, I flipped over to talk radio. This is never a good idea. Too much Rush (could he be any higher on his own fumes?!) in the afternoon will make anyone see red. I started regretting my craving for oranges, but in the midst of winter, when not a speck of green covers my little plot of the earth and the sun won’t shine, a bit of citrus will brighten up the gloomiest of afternoons. Sort of like reading a good blog might do. Instead, dear reader (maybe a Jane Eyre-esque moment can save this thing?!) you’ve suffered through this little ditty, thereby falling into a similar DP trap. And so friends, my point is made: Friends don’t let friends fall into the trap of the Daily Post. They wave them off, saying ‘For the love of all that is good and holy, come up with your own material!’
Here ends the tale of Roy G. Biv, who, for lack of creativity, succumbed to the Daily Post. Don’t let it happen to your friends.