In this life there's comparative and superlative

I remember this because we learnt the two words in the same lesson in school one day. Some days you see shit in the world that warms your insides, or forces a chuckle in your mind, and it's nice. But that's all it is. Nice. It's like the dab of dijon on your rib-eye. This falls into the comparative category.

But once in a blue moon Mr Miyagi strolls up leading a sacrificial bull raised exclusively in Kobe, pulls out a samurai sword and slaughters it in front of you, then pan-fries the filet, blindfolded, whilst catching flies in chopsticks with his free hand. And the dijon goes out the fucking window. Superlative.

Sometimes you see shit that leaves you in no doubt whatsoever that a benchmark is being set.

Like my favourite goal ever scored.

Or this dude whistling.

Or Daisy Lowe's ability to induce bonertime by moving her hips 4 cms in either direction.

This morning i saw superlative

This morning was fucking cold, but in the blinking of an eye something thawed the hell out of the Roseberry Avenue Grays Inn Rd intersection. I heard them before i saw them. Chanting in unison, loaded with tinnies and tummy-guns, 17 dudes in perfect Mask outfits, absolutely out of their trees. They literally stopped traffic. I Lucky Luke'd the fuck out of my nokia 12.4 and lensed them. Superb focusing for such a small phone. And along with a crowd of smiling commuters shaken out of their 8am torment, we watched them til they disappeared, hearing them long after they were out of sight.

Like Messi, mullet-man, and Miss Lowe, superlative is here to remind us that the world is full of wonder. We might forget it from time to time, but everything is more or less okay. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Ha. That blogpost went to shit didn't it.

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