2012 New Years Revolutions

Thanks to science, more than confection is at work now. We believe this is exactly what was predicted with the coming of 2012: a shift in consciousness. Luxury is no longer something that comes in the simple form of a cupcake or muffin, instead, if you really want to relax in style, diamonds are the only option. Rather than taking your date to a fancy muffcake boutique, it is now not only stylish... but compulsory that real ballers take their lady to the tub. How can we expect hot muffcakes to survive if they aren't breeding in a pink diamond wash basin? As these ladies can attest, diamonds are a girl's best friend and a girl without a best friend is nothing more than a soggy doughnut. 

  

So really, what is this about anyway? Well the mission is simple and delightfully hedonist. Here at Penny-Slaw Productions we've heard a lot the past year about science, god, nihilism, inteligencia, and the marxist bike riding hippies that might have taken over the world if it wasn't for their addiction to processed sugar and self-loathing. The good news is that there is a clear solution: absolute apathetic self indulgence. Our revolutions are spiral, but isn't that how the universe works? Endless expansion. Endless compression. If you're anything like us, it's hard to wrap your head around the power of gravity, especially when the ground keeps slipping from under you. Fear not, flaky friends, this is nothing a good dose of sugar, sex, or money can't fix. So this year the revolution is clear as a pink diamond glued to a cast iron bowl, and don't be like the rest-- remember your revolution past february.

For a moment let's consider the alternative: you could stop showering and start to smell like vinegar, but then some evangelical pirate is likely to try and baptize you, and who knows where that water has been?! You're likely to contract gonorrhea, but the medication will give you a yeast infection and you've sure had enough of that after using the public pool in 8th grade, so instead of wandering around risking salvation, you join an anarchist commune with a girl named Flower Petal who will drink any kind of whiskey imaginable, but only eats fruit if her chakras are aligned. You could sell your Jaguar and start riding rusty bikes, cursing about capitalist swineys screaming, "I am not an object." But I must ask the question, what's wrong with objects anyway? I mean, isn't it enough to be content with existence? And isn't this the best reminder that the world is still solid? Soaking in a glitter bath, bulging with simple sugars, and assuring yourself that sometimes there isn't anymore than that.