Right at this moment, I'm lifting my new Ghost Bear emoji sweatshirt from the package it was shipped in. I take a deep, intoxicating breath. It doesn't have the typical new clothing smell. It reminds me more of burnt licorice or wet rubber. Suddenly that smell whisks me thousands of miles away. I'm walking through a beachfront town in Mexico. I just got done snorting some over-the-counter headache medicine and I'm looking for the nearest burrito joint. I find one, order a gigantic burrito and spend the next hour dipping it in some ketchup like salsa and mayonnaise like guacamole. Outside of the terrible condiments, I feel at peace.
How did I get so far off track? Oh yeah, f**king emojis man. They do it to me every time. Check out Fidlar's "Why Generation" and see where it takes you.
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