Taco Friday for Friday, August 23rd
It is my dire duty to inform you of yet another loss in our karass. T.N., a spiritual soldier of Taco Friday since days lost since generations passed, will die. We will all die, but he will die in the most ignominious fashion: he will no longer breathe and know that tacos are only around the corner. Years of experience in yelling, vomiting, and punches, gone with the stroke of a pen/urine test.
How do we celebrate the loss of a hero? Self-flagellation comes to mind, as does breaking bottles by the garbage bins outside the QF Mart (also deceased). Celebration of the dead is only heartbreaking if one has lived not their life to the fullest and if people were unkind to one another; "perhaps if they were / our deaths would not be so sad." Here at Taco Friday (my desk as I write before wine and nicotine leaves my fingers), we front a more Spartan approach: we celebrate the dead as though they were still living.
We ignore death because it is trivial. We celebrate death because it is as close to waking up as the alarm clock or the sun peeking through window shades. An embrace of greeting is as precious as final goodbyes since they are identical.
This Taco Friday will break the rules, so get ready. There will be gifts (punches; death) and surprises (gifts; death). You are to RSVP or fuck you. Fuck you so much.
Thank you.
