Ever since the invention of the wheel, humanity’s been blessed with one terrible curse: the realization that all things are, in fact, cyclical.

Everything that will ever happen has already happened. There’s no such thing as a new idea. Ever since that one wretched fish crawled out of the primordial soup, we were doomed to experience horrors like the stock market. We’re all passengers in some divine Subaru, and God — or Jesus, if you’re into that — has willfully abandoned the wheel.

Consider Stonehenge. Why the hell did we build that, anyway? 

Now, consider Carhenge — you know Carhenge, don’t you? It’s Nebraskan Stonehenge with cars. Wild. It’s a bit of a prophetic thing for modern America, I think — a reminder about how we’re all just imitators of the past, or whatever. I’m not a literary critic. You’re not a cop.

And what about Cornhenge? A field somewhere in Ohio, dotted with corn sculptures. Admittedly, the corn has nothing in common with Stonehenge, except for its inexplicable existence and the fact that I thought it was a little funny.

The point, though. 50, 60, 100 years from now — when’s our next ‘Henge? There’s a Wikipedia list of all our current ‘Henge parodies. What’s the next thing we make oblique and monolithic? What’s going to stand the test of our times? 

I’d like to put some money on ice pops, if only because I’d kill for the blessing of a giant Creamsicle — but I’ll admit it. The absurd carnival of existence isn’t always a joyride. The circle of time isn’t always pretty.

It’s best likened to a merry-go-round — a pointless, purposeless whirlwind of memories and little pops of exhilaration. What’s life without a little existentialism, a little absurdism? Not much, to be honest with you. We’re all a bit dead from the beginning, but, in the immortal words of the Hokey Pokey — that’s what it’s all about.

This is less of an Opinion piece, and more of a shot in the dark at capturing something intangible. Isn’t it weird, seeing the past in everything? Isn’t it strange, thinking of how the future will play out? 

After we graduate, some of us will graduate again, somewhere else. Others, well — we’re going directly to a 9-to-5, the rest of our lives. It’s going to be the same day, until something terrible or beautiful or impossible happens; death from above, life on another world, the invention of a type of blue cheese that doesn’t suck. 

Some of us might see that next solar eclipse. Others won’t.

Do you like watching the snake eat its tail? Do you ever wonder why we’re here? I’m a comic at heart; it’s strange to play pretend at philosophy and cleverness, so I hope you see what I’m getting at here.

Though, it’s not clever if nobody knows what you’re talking about, is it? Hey, you tell me. I know my point, but I still love to obscure it.

We’re all just siblings to Neanderthals, after all. Not even first cousins once removed. We’re the same animals we were a thousand years ago, just with nicer suits and refrigerators.

Now, I’d like to advocate for a more fun view of things. Less pessimism, more of a “rage against the dying of the light” type beat. Damn the flat circle, damn the ouroboros — let’s pretend time is a trapezoid, or a really big kite, or some clown’s paper snowflake, cut as needed to fit the needs of this joke. 

Commencement’s on the near horizon, a time that certainly coincides with Green Day’s “Good Riddance” jumping a few spots up on the charts. You’re going to be feeling the same feelings that someone, somewhere, felt one, two, 10, 100 years ago, and that’s as poetic as it is absurd. 

About 10 minutes after I finish writing this piece — not the sentence, mind — I’m going to go make some cupcakes. There’s only one draft of this piece, and I’m not coming back to this document ever again. There’ll be no second chance. There’s no round two.

That merry-go-round, though — what a ride. Same day next week?

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