Comparative Review: A Crumpled Napkin Vs. An Empty Jar of Mayonnaise

It is unwise to be impaired in one's reasoning by the limitations of logic, insofar as a measurement of unreasonable meaning ends the measured means to the end of reason that is intended by logic or whatever other means that might be reasoned to be meant to the end of achieving this end. Hence, my approach to the crumpled napkin / empty jar of mayonnaise conundrum. But I shall leave the measurement of unreasonable meaning to others, for whom time has no end.

An empty yet unclean jar bespeaks a nameless indulgence, shamed here and forevermore by this filthy vessel. This jar has whored itself out one last time. "Recycling" is such an unused euphemism. I will go back to some store. But how can I go, when this obscenity in glass can offer me no better way to wipe my now bleeding eyes?

A crumpled napkin then: disgusting. I'll never wipe my eyes with this!

An empty jar of mayonnaise? I suppose I could fill it up with blood.

At last, dear reader, I hope this review has been both helpful and informative.

Review: A Slight Deafening of the Ear

In 1766, it was a well-known fact that a slight deafening of the ear had its detractors, no less than its supporters, no less than those for whom the question in question was little more than a dull, throbbing silence--inflamed, perhaps, by the vehement whisperings of some nameless provocation, whose purposed gesticulations betrayed their own irrelevance with theretofore unknown deliberateness. Why, then, should 1767 then have borne a lovechild whose elbows (metaphorically speaking) should be little more than knees of the arms? There is no sound answer to this admittedly baffling question. Perhaps, then, we may be relieved in our present mode of consideration that no such event took place. No, for 1767 was nought but the barren and childless prelude to 1768, which is perhaps where this review could better have begun.

In 1768, then, it became common for a slight deafening of the ear to bring itself about autonomously. This was, not unlike its present forms, a sort of defense mechanism to preserve the mind in the face of an environment densely riddled with nonsense. But it was not the only such defense mechanism. Indeed, dear reader, you yourself may even presently find yourself experiencing a slight blinding of the eye.

But a history is of little significance for those who can bear no memories. I assume that you are such an individual, dear reader. What were you doing at 12:37 in the afternoon, three days ago? What was the second sentence of this review? I assume that your silence speaks for itself.

When no opposing voice is heard, assertions assume a glorified, if reckless existence, unquestioned to presuppose their own justification. A slight deafening of the ear, then, is a path to this kind of truth.

But, as any avid reader of my reviews shall know, I have long condemned truth for its arrogance. So, too, must I condemn the slight deafening of which I write, for no good can come of it. The true is hardly good, and the goods.... well, I've got the goods, but they'll not remain true.