In Notting Hill in London, there’s a shop, that’s been written about here before called the The Idler Academy of Philosophy Husbandry and Merriment, and I made the voyage to its doors. Upon arrival, I sat amongst the tomes and looked across the room to see the above.
A man wearing a shirt that said ‘Texas is for Lovers‘. A bit innocuous, you say? Well, that’s not quite how I see it.
There certainly are plenty of lovers in Texas, if you want to include all the baby daddies and ne’er-do-well deadbeat fathers that the place is littered with. I can already hear the protests from both Texans and friends of Texans saying things like, ‘But lahikmajoe, what’re you talking about? There are good fathers there in the Land of Lovers, as well.‘
Well, I suppose I’ll give you that.
However, this marketing campaign that the authorities in Texas have devised to make themselves appear more amorous than they really are is not only false advertising, but it’s rather unbecoming. What if a poor, unsuspecting soul were to read the message on that t-shirt and actually make his way to Texas in search of All the Lovers.
Those Texas Lovers of the infamy decreed on the Shirt in Notting Hill.
What about that?
You hadn’t thought of that, had you?
I like the look on this guy’s face. He’s kind of barely tolerating you. “Fine, fine. Take my picture. I have idling to get back to, you know.”
I’m sure somewhere in Texas there are some lovers. It’s a big state with many people. Probability tells me that at LEAST a couple of those have to be lovers. I would assume that, also, at least a few of those people are pickers, grinners, sinners, jokers, smokers, midnight tokers, space cowboys, and gangsters of love. And at least one is Maurice. That’s just how the law of averages plays out, bub.