I was getting nostalgic about generic things. “Do you remember that time I went into Dunnes stores and bought a regular size tube of Colgate toothpaste?” I asked my imaginary friend. We nudged each other and shared a bit of a laugh. “And do you remember that other time when I went into Renzo café and ordered a regular Americano and a blueberry muffin?” We both had a real good laugh about that one. It was good remembering the old times. Then I came out with another one, I came out with another fond memory. I came out with a real corker: “Do you remember that time when I went up to this complete stranger in Shop Street and said something completely generic to him and he said something completely generic right back to me?” We both creased up laughing over this. Another memory hit me then: “Say Buddy,” I said, “do you remember that time I performed a generic action in a generic environment and predictably elicited a generic, pre-specified response?” “Boy oh boy that sure was a good one,” I burbled happily, “Those sure were some good times we had back then…” My imaginary friend agreed with me, “They sure were good times we had back then buddy,” he said, with a twinkle in his imaginary eye, “When you think back to the crazy shit we used to get up to back then. That really was something else. Who’d have thought it, looking at us today?” “That sure is the truth good buddy,” I replied, “We knew how to have fun back then. We were pretty wild now that I come to think of it. Those were some crazy times, good buddy. Real crazy times!” We went quiet for a moment then, looking back over those times, enjoying the moment. We were both remembering the way things used to be. Then after a long thoughtful silence my imaginary friend spoke up again, “Say buddy do you remember do you remember that time that time that time when you adapted so completely to the designed environment that you lost every trace of your essential individuality and you became a construct of the social matrix and began performing all these socially-prescribed formulaic-type actions that didn’t mean a damn thing?” I did remember and the easy tears of nostalgia welled up in my eyes, “I sure do good buddy,” I answered, all choked up, “How could I ever forget those good, good times?”