Listen to some quality radio.

Heading out into your living room, you switched the radio on, tuned in to your favourite program and sat down in front of your computer for another lazy weekend day of web browsing, video watching and idle masturbation. As you did so, and the minutes began to bleed away unnoticed, you listened.

Bob Boone wasn't a doctor. Wasn't a scientist, a psychologist, a sociologist. Wasn't a policitican, wasn't even political. What he was was just a guy who liked to think and talk about modern life.

Bob's philosophy was that investment in politics, critical discussion, cultural discourse was a recipe for depression, anxiety and burnout. Nobody needed to go too far to find examples of that. What Bob believed and tried to highlight in his chats, discussions and interviews, was that the average person (and Bob included himself here, he was humble) was usually better off leaving these things to the experts and trusting to the arc of history.

You had about as much chance or meaningfully affecting any of the big issues of the day as Eden Tanaka did attending an anime convention unmolested. No, Bob reasoned, we only got one life, better to spend it embracing values and sensations that made sense. The nuclear family, sports, blockbuster cinema, the simple rewards of a day's good hard labor. A date night with that special lady or fella.

The man's philosophy was nothing too fancy. Simple, not simplistic was what he insisted on, on the rare occassions he actually debated anyone (Bob was not exactly argumentative, preferring to discuss his views with likeminded people. There was definitely something infantilising about his whole viewpoint, but part of you had to admit you liked the sound of it. Some of it.

Growing up in a small town, you'd been bored to tears most nights. You'd been eager to get away to college, learn new things, embrace new ideas, do things that would make more sheltered folks blush at debauched house parties. But now, mired in a sea of loneliness, porn and pizza crusts as you were, you could see the appeal of a good, honest life. A little place in the sticks, a job where you worked with your hands, a couple of kids, and a cute apple pie wife to raise them with.

Apple pie, that made your stomach rumble. Blinking, you realised it was nearly 7PM, and you were starving.

You weighed your options up. You could go out to a local restaraunt to pick something up, or order a pizza online. Of course, the amount of times you'd done that in the past weeks, you were pretty sure your blood was mostly marinara, at this point.