So much creativity, from ad campaigns to studio screenplays, is doomed to be pressed up against the cold, calculating lens of data, quantifying every layer of an idea, discerning what will and what won’t resonate with whoever.

Wouldn’t it be nice if we could all just make a little less sense?

Welcome to The Hootonanny:
Brief blips from the subconscious of yours truly. // 100% organic thoughts, Hand-typed, machine made, high in cholesterol.

It’s never too late to disappoint your friends.

I was one of the last stops on my very long, rural bus route growing up. This was often my fantasy.

Done deal... I dunno.

Santa’s Christmas postgame conference would be pretty tense.

Kettle drummers are underrated.

Anyone who’s worked with me knows how I feel about lunch.

There should be an annual award show for the year’s craziest Florida Man stories.

Letting go of the past looks different for everyone.

Donuts. Shitchya.

That one person at the office who gets too carried away with their daily water intake.

Make a wish upon a colossal ball of hot gas, generating nuclear fusion, 5.26 light years away.

I always thought it’d be funny if one of the guys in a street fight just needed a shirt.

Clouds have been objectified for far too long. Now we know why it rains.

My 3yo daughter recently informed me that flies need chimneys on their houses so the Santa fly can visit them on Christmas Eve. This is where it took me. And yes, that’s supposed to be Willy the Giant from Mickey’s Christmas Carol.

I’m a dude. And I never understood why other dudes spit in the urinal. Maybe it’s a subconscious macho thing… or maybe some people are just saliva abundant.