by joetwo

Behold the chattering classes

Spinning false lines, regurgitating old truths to each other.

They speak in hushed tones,

Like their wisdom is from on high

From the mouth of the gods.

They speak in knowledgable tones about the issues of the day

Of life, love and reason.

Often clouded through a haze of alcohol.

They have no theses, these bar stool philosophers, no direction to the meanderings

But therein is their strength,

The great questions of our day, solved in the space of an evening.