Accolades seem to elevate the anointed, must be nice. Locked into the groove of mediocrity, Samaritans find themselves angling more towards jergins and a kleenex than a trophy or a plaque. The place you can get to fluffing alter egos instead of ass licking is really divinely satisfying. In the marketplace of making a difference it really doesn't excite but neither does shitty southern accents. I upped the ante when I nonchalantly began wearing underpants every single day so no need to remind me of Bush senior dropping out of a plane at age 90. I could still pass an hour or two with just crayolas and a piece of paper. Instead, the lure of exposition, crafting a perfect tramp stamp seems the better way to fill the space. Glitter had street cred until it showcased your last lap dance. Now we just defer because the element is undesirable, let alone the admission your groin needs commercial strange. Happy to be just where I am and still the one. '