Lesson 4: all aboard the Bonk Bus
My head feels weird!
Well well well,
Wello from a Manhattan-bound Academy bus. It’s a bumpy and dark ride but typos add character. Never let ChatGPT the government know your next move. If you enjoy getting carsick and fighting inertia in public toilets, all alongside 50 other people, then boy do I have a concept for you.
Luckily, I get my best thinking done on the bus as I am forced to fix my gaze longingly out the window and maintain a contemplative public image.
As far as I’m concerned, spooky season actually begins when the clocks turn back and we are thrown into near-constant darkness. I read somewhere (not TikTok) that ghosts are actually just the memories we turn over repeatedly in our heads. Perhaps we can be haunted by a moment in time the same way Casper or Bloody Mary do their thing. I like this definition because it means that I don’t need to waste time fearing actual ghosts (efficient). It also helps contextualize uncomfortable truths, for instance:
Failing a college music class = Moaning Myrtle (cried in many bathrooms)
[Redacted]
The entirety of 2019 = Beetlejuice (another rambunctious spirit with bad intentions)
These are the witching hours, my friends; when ghosts come home to roost over dark, long car bus rides for the holidays. Don’t be afraid; let them in and their ridiculousness to boot!
Now, to address the elephant in the room: what is Gob’s plan for America? Well, I’m sorry to say that as of last week the media elite is officially out; getting your news from the most opinionated and grating people you know is in.
I’m no leader of the free world but I do have one policy idea that might actually benefit the life of at least one American:
Please ban these. Disgustingly intimate and I never press the right button. But does it even matter? Does anything?
Coldly,
Gob