I created a new t-shirt design inspired by the fact that Jimi Hendrix died on this day in 1970. I am sure it is sacrilege to some people, but sometimes you have to go where the pun takes you. So kiss my pie hole if you don't like it.
This is the actual disign (sans me as the pie kisser).
When I asked ChatGPT create a version for my blog featuring me, it was sensitive enough to not give me a purple Afro. Because god knows what an uproar that would have created amongst my fan base. Though I'm not so much afraid of the cancel culture, because you have to have reached the top of the pyramid before someone shoves you off. I'm at the bottom still pushing large bricks up the side of the pyramid.
Obviously I have recovered from my trip to my 50th high school reunion and the blows to my psyche it caused. Well, maybe I'll never recover totally from it. I check the Facebook page for it and scroll through the photos people posted of the good times we had. Of all the photos, there was only one that I was in.
That is my left arm on the right side of the photo. I am standing their awkwardly wondering what ever possessed me to go to the reunion. I was also waiting for dinner to start because I was starved. And many of the photos people took at the event were of the food. Because those are the things you want to remember about an event commemorating the people who spent maybe three years of their lives in the same school 50 years ago.
Don't get me wrong. The food was great. It was a Basque paella. I'm not sure it was worth the $50 I paid for the event, but those photos captured it quite well.
I think the most disappointing thing to me was myself. I turned into this awkward, shy, inarticulate person who I am sure came across as extremely odd. Ironically, given the opportunity, I can be quite charming and engaging. I just wasn't given the opportunity. It is difficult to compete with conversations about who died from drug overdoses or whose father taught everyone in Boise how to play the drums. It left me speechless and dumbfounded.
They didn't serve pie, though. But scuse me while I kiss the paella.
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