Bridge to Whynarabithia: A Discourse on Remaining Forever Young
  • It turns out Ponce De Leon was way off track: the fountain of youth was to be found flowing from a coffee urn and a bottle of Jager.

    The experts tell us that in developmental psych, the term “parallel play” signifies the manner in which young children, typically under 3 years old, play alone – in their own world – even as each of them are part of a large group. They are not fully socialized yet and, according to this whynatte drinker, they still reside in a magical world of their own imaginings – free of the burdensome expectations of “talking” and “playing” with other people.

    How, you may ask, can I taste of that freedom now that I’m in my twenties, well on my way in this inexorable march of time and decrepitude? The answer – if one peruses this photo of Jesse, two guys I don’t know, and Andy – should be clear:

    Drink Whynatte.

    No one – not Jesse, those two guys I don’t know, or even Andy – seem to be aware of the others. Not one of these pictured Whynatte drinkers gives a rat’s dirty parts about anyone else – having lost track of their surroundings, of their girlfriends and wives, and of their nettlesome need to “socialize.”

    They are truly young again – in a magical world of their thoughts and feelings – free to splash in the fountain of Whynatte.


    February 22nd, 2007 | Jacob | 4 Comments |

About The Author

Jacob Weber

28 year old professional squash champion and auctioneer.

4 Responses and Counting...

  • jesse 02.22.2007

    Well said, Jacob. It’s nice to have someone looking at these seemingly average photos, and to have them see so much more. Indeed, in that moment I was drinking my Whynatte, I was in another place. For that moment, I was prancing through fields of latte flowers like I had pranced as a young child.

    Thank you, Jacob.

  • I can understand where you were WHEN you were drinking your WhyNatte.

    But where the hell were you before to earn those beads, you jezebel?

  • You are kind Jesse. No photo is average though. The story is always there, waiting to be recognized – like a little lost cat in the rain, purring plaintively.

  • Mom

    amen, Jacob. judykuniansky.com

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