This fucking bullshit needs to get the fuck out of my head:

The worst part about this is that I essentially wasted 15 minutes of my life researching Strawberry Alarm Clock just to see if there was more to this band beyond this psychedelic poseur pablum.

SPOILER ALERT: THERE ISN’T.

There’s so little creative substance to this band of fake hippies that they’re forced to relive their heyday in the most embarrassing ways.

Sidenote: I never match my socks. And here’s why: what’s the point?

I feel like we already go through our lives doing meaningless, menial shit. By not taking the time to gather them from the dryer, match them up & put them away, I’m somehow adding days/weeks/months to my life in the long run.

And yet, I regret that I’ll enjoy 15 minutes LESS on my deathbed because of the fucking Strawberry Alarm Clock.

THIS guy knows what I’m talking about:

Ditto THAT guy with the sitar (sort of):

But not THESE guys:

“You do know the city has another auction house, don’t you?”

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