Terminal Velocity

I move/live at the speed of the senses,

slower ‘cause I’m older, moving terminally 

to inevitability of algorithm’s end, the end

of my time, relative time of a dying animal,

eternity fastened to it like an escape pod,

what comes next a mystery like last time

it happened…what would it be like to be born

fully aware? What a trip! Like opening the 

front door to go outside, and, when you do,

there’s nothing there except the opposite 

of death.

Machine Gun Learning

“It took a nipponized bit of the old sixth avenue el

in the top of his head to tell him.” eecummings 

Learning takes place at the point of a gun as a

last resort too many times in history.

Why we don’t learn, as humans, from past mistakes

is a mystery.

Ideals don’t solve problems, rather create them because

they don’t acknowledge the nitty gritty.

You say you want a revolution?

Wrote a song about it…wanna hear it?

Goes like this.

And So It Goes

Franklin was in his cabana, sipping a mai tai,

listening to the waves. He kept up with what

was happening in the States. He was glad he

was not there, that he had moved to Mexico

twenty years ago, to a town protected by it’s

vibe (from the copper in the mountains that

surrounded it?). His decision to do so was 

purely instinctive…a brainstorm like the one

he had when he decided to become a plumber.

His mind had somehow grokked the clues he

saw and felt. He was brave enough to take 

some leaps in life, not jumping to conclusions,

rather seeing what was there and acting 

accordingly. Many people just looked for the

most convenient rut and stayed with it their

whole lives. The ones that didn’t seemed like

weirdos and crazies. Some of those became

his friends. Two soldiers walked along the 

beach with automatic rifles. He noticed them

that morning as they got out of their truck. He

wondered if someone had noticed the smell of

the joint he had smoked in his room. 

The United States of America

What’s happening in the USA?

Not what was predicted 

by the Buddhists

by the Hindus

by the Christian Bible

by the Hopi, 

Nostradamus, 

Baba Vanga,

Mark Taylor.

Maybe the Mayans got it right.

Maybe Project Looking Glass did.

(I too made a prediction, like Taylor,

in 2011…”The Purge Of Evil”. Looks

like I was right, if I do say so myself)

We’re in the fog of a war

the fog of propaganda 

the fog of newspeak

the fog of anarchy and chaos

the fog of ridiculous stupidity.

If the United States falls to the 

Communist conspiracy, (think

Soros as the poster child), the

world will go into a thousand

years of darkness, the Kali Yuga.

Things don’t look so good right

now for the evil ones, the clients

of Epstein and Diddy, the socio/

psychopaths on the payroll of

insanity and destruction, but it’s 

too early to tell, because things 

are still foggy.

If you think this is just my opinion,

or I’m a conspiracy theorist,

a vaccine denier,

a MAGA lunatic,

a “Trump is a danger to democracy”

apologist,  go ahead.

I have plenty of thoughts about 

people who think that way.

Part of their war strategy is to make

me, make everyone angry, sow seeds 

of the anarchy and chaos, it’s a piece

of their plan.

Instead, Trump and the Patriots, 

(common sense people) are using the

Constitution and the law as their 

weapons, destroying the enemy.

Check your reaction to these words

written here. If they make you angry,

there’s a clue.

I’m not sure of anything right now.

You?

One thing is clear: it’s the greatest

show on earth.

I apologize that this isn’t a poem…

maybe it should have been.

Artificial Intelligence

There are two types of people…those that divide

people into two types, and those that don’t….he’d

written about that once before.

He had been an actor, became a writer because

acting took lots of other people, and he didn’t know

when, if ever, he’d be around them anymore.

Acting was an amazing endeavor. He thought

Buddhists would benefit from doing it because, if

you were in character, there was no room for ego.

Acting could be dangerous. He had two examples.

Alfred Jarry was a playwright at the end of the

Twentieth Century in France. He wrote “Ubu Roi”,

a play about a king. That king was disgusting…

always spewing dirty language, filth, aside from

his bad behavior. Jarry began to dress like that 

character, and wandered around Paris spewing

filth, and generally being Pere Ubu. Freud coined 

the term: “Jarry complex” to describe his obsession.

Ubu became Jarry’s ego. The other example is

George C. Scott, who won an academy award for

his role in the movie, “Patton”. George had a 

nervous breakdown. He couldn’t stop being Patton.

“Hang on to your ego, but I know you’re going to

lose the fight.”

He wrote things, even a few lyrics, but he wasn’t 

a musician. He had two examples of people whose

music had gotten them out of prison: Leadbelly and

Handel. He didn’t see how his writing could get him

out of the prison he was in. He knew death would 

solve that problem, so he wasn’t really worried. It 

was interesting, however, to consider the possibility.

He was living in an ancient caldera in a town

considered to be a place that was one of the oldest 

continuously inhabited spots in the Western 

Hemisphere. That was good enough for him.

He knew that going somewhere else could only,

at best, be redundant. What do you do when you

find your spot? You stay there. It had worked for him.

Besides these thoughts, it was just another day. Today

felt a bit better because the moon was moving from 

Cancer to Leo, or some other reason. It made sense

to him, even if he really didn’t understand.

Waves Or Particles?

Frank woke up …he was at the beach.

Who was he this time? He seemed to

remember… Franklin Tish…yes, that

was his name. He felt better…the fog

of sleep was beginning to recede like

the tide. He knew it would be back…

no one stays awake forever…or, do 

they? What about the enlightened ones

whose bodies evanesce when they die?

He knew he’d read about them. He 

knew he had some connection. Perhaps

things would become clearer over the

course of the day. That’s what usually

happened. He trusted the process…it

took a long time for faith to develop,

but eventually it did.

It was fresh from the rain last night.

Rainy season had begun, and the heat

of the last few weeks was beginning

to assuage. He got out of bed and

went over and looked out the window

of the room he had rented over the 

restaurant. No people on the beach.

A few clouds punctuated the horizon.

He remembered he used to have a 

schedule, a routine, even a purpose,

but no more. Every morning he woke

up, there was that second, that moment,

before he was awake, a slight panic, 

then, a letting go when he realized he

no longer was a plumber, no longer had

to go to the job. Rather amazing how

patterns linger. The mind is a terrible thing.

He got back into bed. The sun wasn’t fully 

up yet. He had plenty of time, which was

rather a surprise. Maybe he’d fall asleep 

for a while. Maybe he’d have another dream.

The last part of the night, the last part of

a good night’s sleep is when the dreams

usually came. He wondered what the 

message would be this time? He hoped

it wasn’t that he was back in college for

another year. That dream was always a

nightmare.

Anyone that loves a beach would love

Mazunte. It was off season, so there were

few people there, which was nice. The people

he did meet were splendid…easier to be that

way in pleasant surroundings. There was no

reason to complain, so complaints didn’t 

seem to arise…at least, not as much as in

Pittsburg.

Why did Pittsburg just pop into his mind 

just then? Why did anything? He’d only been

on the outskirts of Pittsburgh once in his life,

when he hitchhiked East with a black girl in 

‘69. Is that true? Did he do that? He did seem

to have the memory.

Some of his memories were scary…times when

he averted an accident at work or driving a car.

He sometimes wondered how he survived…there

was always a slight twinge when he had those

memories…a residue of fear, like sand in your 

shoe. His mechanism, his Deus ex Machina, held

a lot of secrets. Maybe there was still time to 

figure out how to work this thing, this body/mind,

this soul fastened to a dying animal, but he wasn’t 

hopeful. Luckily, he wasn’t much fearful either, as

he had been when he was young. He was very

aware of death when he was young. It drove him

to try and find out what it meant to be alive at all,

in the first place. He’d made leaps in that 

direction. Now that he knew he had eternity to

fully realize the answer, he was more relaxed, in

general. Eternity? Just watch the waves endlessly

breaking on the beach. The waves come from 

the ocean. Thoughts come from mind.

Cafe At The End Of Time: Epilogue

Frank is as real as I ever was…maybe more so.

We got ourselves into this mess every much as

any fictional characters we might think of creating.

To be honest, I’m only back to write this…when

I’m through, I’ll be back as 264499, helping recent

newbies figure out what has happened to them.

You can only reassure them so much….they have 

get a grip themselves naturally. Otherwise, they’re 

going to be in for some serious brain surgery. Then

they have to be reprogrammed, which is time 

consuming and expensive. At least, it’s quicker than

evolution. Most recent arrivals do pretty well. They

were chosen because they exhibited openness, after 

all. The frozen minds were left on earth to their own

devices. Maybe they’ll wind up eating each other in

the long run. That was not our problem.

We sometimes laugh at Homosap’s concepts of  “Utopia”,

“Brave New World”, “Republic”, any ideal world ideas.

That’s because we have it so we don’t have to imagine it.

What is it, you wonder, but I can’t explain it because you

wouldn’t understand. Some humans actually found it for

themselves. They were able to teach it to a few others who

had to go through years of intensive training so they could 

finally understand. That’s why only a minority of humans

had the ability to phase shift to a new reality. That’s why

“extraterrestrials” watched earth, humans, for all those 

centuries. They had to be sure.

I’m not giving away any secrets. “The truth is out there”,

as they say. It’s just that most people stop looking for it

even before they’re adults. The ones that do look for the

truth are always considered weirdos and lunatics by most

of humanity, except some native traditions that let them 

be shamans. Like the Beatles wrote: “I want to tell you.”

No wonder they were so popular…lots of hidden wisdom 

in their songs.

I could go on….endlessly…but quantum wisdom only 

allows to disseminate clues. There was no instruction 

manual for being human ever written, unless you count

the Tao Te Ching, but that was basically finger painting.

So, in conclusion, to quote Vonnegut:

“So long, and thanks for all the fish!”

White Man

White Man is the new Superhero.

(This is satire, if I have to spell it out for you.

If I do, I know who you are.)

Let’s not beat around the bush anymore,

hedge our bets, hide the truth.

White Man has been the only Superhero for a long time.

Hitler had the idea, but he was wrong in that 

White Man never advertised himself.

All the Superheroes invented in comic strips

were euphemisms for White Man.

Sure, there was Bat Girl and Super Girl,

but only Wonder Woman had a good backstory.

Black Panther came along because someone

felt sorry about something.

White Man built Western Civilization after the

other races’ civilizations, empires had vanished.

That was before White Man’s time, which is now.

White Man flourished in the sciences, discovered 

evolution, built the Empire State building in a year,

built the World Trade Center. 

Another color blew it up.

(Actually, it was the Jews, so that’s a grey area.)

White Man put a man on the moon and is heading 

to Mars. He wrote most of Western literature, 

created most of it’s art…not blues or jazz, which

came out of Africa, an extension of what they had.

“Noblesse Oblige” is a White Man’s burden.

 Ghengis Khan didn’t have it…he killed everyone.

Ancient warrior societies were the same way.

Today they want to destroy White Man because

they’re jealous….what other reason?

(Of course, White Man isn’t the pinnacle of evolution.

The Buddhists discovered that, yellow people, but that’s 

not what we’re talking about now.)

So, folks, we’re stuck with White Man, like it or not.

Anyone have a better idea?

The Myth Of Freedom

That’s it, just a title.

I could say more, like,

if you think you’re free,

what are all those thoughts 

in your head telling you

what to do, what to believe?

Sorry, I just saw Stone’s movie,

J.F.K., and I’m a little upset

because a lot of people still

believe what the successors 

of the people that killed him say;

MSM, Dems, RINOs, MINOs,

three letter agencies, you know,

the usual suspects that have been

around my whole life…

do you see?

Many see, they elected Trump.

Others still have thoughts that

aren’t really theirs, implants to

govern their behavior.

I’m tired…I should have ended

this with the title…it’s not a poem

…it’s not hit bait…it’s just the truth,

an acquired taste that’s out of fashion.

Maybe I should have taken the blue pill.

Gong Show

In Kyoto, the Mikosan was four hundred years

of life history revealed in dance, the echo of

dynasty and culture, eternal beauty.

In Tepoztlan, Mexicans move with their history 

embedded in wrinkled faces, in costumes 

reflecting humor at servitude they endured,

in sauces for the plain food surviving from 

ancestors’ lives, in their horses they ride with

pride, beasts whose ancestry parallels their own.

My German stock mingles with Tibetan and Zen

quantum vibrations, songs, sayings, tales, stories

etched into axions, ringing on to eternity, part of

Frank Zappa’s single note that is the universe.

I’m Feeling A Poem

 …coming on…

a vowel movement…

when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Life’s like that…it has to come out.

Here it comes…ladies, hike your skirts!

Residue 

All that’s left of yesterday is memory,

maybe a photo or two stuck in a drawer

and forgotten.

I have scars to prove I worked,

a few reviews of roles I played in plays,

of books I published, residue of life I lived.

I’m still here, a footnote of myself, still writing,

a stone rolling downhill with momentum,

natural continuum until it stops, the only question 

left is “So what?”, swept away like all the rest,

history a wisp of smoke that lingers in the air,

Horton hears a Who.

In the cosmic quantum maelstrom, the earth

is merely punctuation.

Period.

William Blake Was Right

 He wrote of three stages of life;

innocence, experience, and return to innocence.

Return to innocence is because of experience.

What Blake didn’t say is, if you don’t heed experience,

if you go down the wrong path, (because we’re all on one),

you don’t return to innocence…

you continue on the wrong path.

Give Blake a break, he was a mystic…he did, however,

draw a picture…many of them.

Innocence, then experience…what kind?

All of them.

You have to make a choice.

The road less traveled?

Up to you.

No instruction manual,

just a lot of clues.

Believe me or not, all the clues are there,

even in the Bible.

It’s a mission impossible, which you have

no choice but to accept.

Door number one or door number two?

I’m sure you wish you knew,

but, still, you have to choose.

“By their fruits you shall know them.”

There’s one for you.

Not A Professional

I write because that’s what I do.

That’s the only reason.

If there was another reason, 

someone would have noticed me by now, 

maybe a patron…I’d be famous then.

I still like reading what I wrote before…

not so much now at the end of this thing,

what do you call it?

Oh yeah, life, the thing that keeps happening 

until it doesn’t, I remember…until I don’t.

It’s been like painting a wall and the paint 

is running out, so you add thinner so you can

complete the job The paint doesn’t cover

as well, but you keep going because that’s 

what you do, like breathing, but the lungs don’t 

work so well, so you’re on oxygen,  and you’d

like to make love because you remember how

great it was, but you don’t feel the passion.

Things start to clear because of less distraction.

And you begin to see people, those you know and

others you see in the street, in a different way, like,

what’s wrong with them? But then you realize you

used to be more that way. You’re not, not because

you learned anything at all, but because you forgot

everything you knew, a kind of blissful ignorance,

maybe, or even a childlike innocence, that’s better…

a second childhood, sure, gurgling words to myself.

So, no, I never took writing seriously…I just wrote 

a lot, that’s all. 

“So what?” you might say,

as I do now.

It Won’t Be Long

What won’t be long?

You’ll see…or will you?

Is it happening right now?

Can you see the signs?

Is anything really normal?

Is your life going along as usual, the way

it was before the last eight years?

Maybe it’s happening in slow motion,

a frog in water that is slowly heating?

What is it, you say?

Has the truth been hidden for so long,

eons, that if you saw it, you wouldn’t 

believe it?

Oh no, it doesn’t matter what I think.

The only thing that matters is what you see.

You see? Do you agree?

It’s time to wake up, reboot, get real,

whether you like it or not,  because

the truth is unavoidable, 

eventually, like now.

“It is precisely in unconscious involuntary 

manifestations that all evil lies. You do no

yet understand and cannot imagine all the

results of this evil. But the time will come 

when you will understand. “ G.I. Gurdjieff

1916.

Random Lines

Truth whorls in random hunger for itself.

A pansy Republic sweats the small stuff.

Yoke replica on the wall as reminder.

Minor-league coercion no longer a problem.

Enough cemeteries defend greed.

Purgatory bus stop notwithstanding.

Free peripheral apparitions.

Orchid embryo dissemination tactic.

Everlasting numeric hollowness…think conflict.

I told you, but your fedora covers your ears.

My impudence is a determined disaster.

Yin/Yang

I don’t miss America.

Over sixty years since JFK died,

and it’s been going downhill since then.

Now that Trump’s in office, there may 

well be a new “golden age” for America,

it looks promising, but we’ll see…I won’t 

be around long enough to experience much

of it if it does happen. 

I’m glad I didn’t waste my life trying to get

on that gravy train of treasonous bastards..

(12 TRILLION dollars Trump’s people have

no idea where it went).

I didn’t waste my life trying to save America.

So, maybe the next fifty to an hundred years

might be fantastic…great living standards again,

everybody gets a Tesla robot to keep them company,

we build condos on Mars, sounds great. 

Let’s assume Trump is the greatest President America

has ever had. Let’s say he’s one of the greatest men that

ever lived. It could be true.

Even so, all is vanity, and there’s nothing new under 

the sun. 

What goes up, must come down.

I hope everyone enjoys their temporary pleasure.

Anyone For Quanta?

Vibes

Vibes are quantum fluctuations at the Planct level

in the scaleable universe, perceived by the senses.

Humor 

Jokes trigger sub-atomic explosions at the Planct scale

of the universe.

Just guessing.

Cyclical Existence

Penrose cyclical universe why not going away

from linear existence of universe of man nice

and tidy that way beginning/end sort of thing 

the West with it’s daddy God creating everything 

suddenly out of nothing something you have to 

believe in because it doesn’t make sense besides

samsara cyclical existence of beings a la Buddhism

already made sense….

time is a wheel not a line.

A wheel makes a straight line on a road.

Do we really experience time, or only it’s effects?

Crack Record

To make an informed choice between politicians,

you have to take into account their crack record.

If they have a crack record, probably not a good pick…

Hunter Biden, for example.

Cory Booker…he did talk for twenty five hours….

suspicious.

Drug testing should be mandatory for politicians.

Gotta figure out why the Dems (and RINOS)

are so crazy…must be addicted to something.

Not many can say they stand on their record.

Not many have a record to stand on.

The deep state has been on a binge

for the last four years.

They’re ripe for a crack up.

The Jones is a killer.

Longing For Nonexistence (for Edgar Cayce)

Longing for space, from which existence arises,

our home that we left on our adventure of life.

A romantic yearning knowing life’s evanescence,

seeing behind the curtain where no one is.

I know my work is almost done this life.

I’ll come back if causes and conditions arise

again the way they did this time.

In an infinite universe, everything is possible

and likely, eventually.

As my teacher said:

“You’ll have plenty of time to rest when you’re dead.”

And the contract (karma) has an infinity clause.

No Worries

An easy daily routine leading to many hours

in bed and lots of sleep, no worries about the

ort cloud or the cosmic bubble or what will

happen on the earth, in quantum time, the 

all-time they haven’t quite yet discovered

but are getting very suspicious of their own

models, who knows? Maybe they’ll figure 

out what the Egyptians and Mayans…let alone

extra-terrestrials…(talk about reinventing the 

wheel) already knew long ago. We ‘re chimps

looking in the mirror and thinking we’re 

handsome. I love writing about this stuff

because these words, not me, will last forever.

There are things that are timeless,

like the truth.

Going To Mars

Going to Mars is not evolution.

Going to Mars is monkey business.

Going to Mars is the same old Homosap.

Going to Mars is the same old shit.

For Europeans coming to North America,

it was like going to Mars, except the prospects

were more promising.

Those people didn’t do anything differently.

Those people didn’t learn anything new.

Those people tried to recreate the world they knew.

For the people that go to Mars, the same will be true.

The means to self evolve has been known and practiced

since the time of Buddha and before.

Why look for the truth somewhere else?

It’s an ego problem.

It’s always an ego problem.

Arms race,

Space race…why does the Homosap always

get himself into situations that are never resolved

and always unsatisfactory?

Evolution is not more, better, best.

Evolution is not being the best at something.

Evolution laughs at a monkey reaching for another banana.

Dark

Music I’m listening to…

thunder approaching 

early for rain…the seasons

even here have been a bit off…

I bit off all I could chew…

Chewy Chewy Sugar Sugar 

the residuals aren’t that great.

Black bubble gum.

Snow White only drinks albino blood.

I didn’t make that up.

Why do Americans delight in horror shows?

Heat

Hot. I’m hot…I’m writing about it…

if you read it, maybe you’ll get hot too…

heat…not unbearable, just a little too much,

which is unbearable…boring….anything that

takes too big a percentage of one’s awareness,

like my friend who had rheumatoid arthritis 

for twenty years…twenty years no relief from

pain…very boring…in dramatic fashion, he

burned himself up in his trailer one night…not

boring…we all feel relief that I didn’t make that

story any longer.

Just then, no lie, it started to rain.

Good Luck

That’s it…that’s all…good luck.

I write like I think I know something,

good luck with that.

Maybe Musk knows more, wants to go

to Mars, good luck to him.

What do you know, what do you think you know?

I really am curious…

I mean, I see what people do…I don’t know why…

what goes on in their minds?

Why  would anyone go to war, for example?

If you’re attacked, ok, I can see that…but the USA

hasn’t been attacked since 1941, and look at all the wars

the USA has been in since then? 

If you believe in something, at least you feel you’re not lost.

That fear is what all religions and political philosophies

build their kingdoms on…don’t you see?

No, they don’t…so they go on in relative security even if

their beliefs don’t exactly match what they’re seeing…they

just look away from what doesn’t match “themselves” and

get by get along get lost in the funhouse ‘till it’s over.

Good luck.

Misadventure/Adventure/Afterthought/Dirty Joke

I have a leaky bladder. For now, I soak

up my dribbles with a tee shirt I bought

at the Beat Bookstore in San Francisco…

a poetic something or other. I was in the

bank, waiting to use the ATM, and some

of my excess slipped past my defenses 

and dribbled on the floor in a little puddle.

No one noticed, I played it cool, did my

transaction, and slipped away unnoticed.

Victory.

And now, two nicely dressed Mexican

gentlemen stopped and began talking to 

me, a little Jesus rap, I didn’t understand 

a word. I said: “Yo soy Buddhismo..es

differente.” They detached at those words.

We shook hands and they left smiling.

Basic goodness.

Beethoven  has been playing in my mind

this morning. His music is awe inspiring,

victorious even. Yeah, but everyone lost

everything always anyway, so what?

So quantum victory, 

victory over time itself.

(snarkastic remarks here)

What do you call a gay man burning in a fire?

A faggot.

Hey, folks, I’m not a hypocrite.

I tried faggotry in my youth,

and I found it wasn’t at all what

it was cracked up to be.

Middle Of The Night

Wake up….bathroom…aspirin-shower

in bed quick now writing this I don’t 

know why whatever could wait until 

tomorrow it’s not like I woke up eureka!

I’ve got it! I’ve got the answer! No!

Nothing of the sort! In fact, I’m going

back to sleep now with no one the wiser!

Two Fans

Two fans hot the top floor concrete roof

bakes in the sun good passive solar but

not when you don’t need it it gets cool

enough to sleep later the whole month 

and part of June then rain comes and 

the flowers come and the heat is forgotten

and then there’s only one fan.

Secret Facility

Where I am…music of pipes being hit by hammers

chorus of machines whine together singing progress…

another civilization maybe…one would be nice…

post apocalyptic steam punk…if there is such a thing…

hard to tell with all the verisimilitude…can’t tell what’s 

what without a program if you think that gives you a 

handle…hasn’t been a blue sky in years…I know one

thing…I can keep a secret.

Clown World

One could probably go anywhere in the world

where there’s electricity and you could show 

the people there a picture of Mickey Mouse,

and they would recognize it immediately.

By contrast, most people you talk to in the world

about the teachings of Buddha and the path that 

leads to the end of suffering would never have 

heard of them, and would think you’re crazy.

It’s a clown world we live in.

Hypoxygen

Nothing rears its ugly head again,

wait a minute….that can’t be right.

Seer sucker…

Yes, I can see your future and it doesn’t 

look good….maybe get down on all fours

and try to make it as a dog?

You can lead a country to sanity,

but you can’t make it think.

Morning glory vines and lavender adorn

the old brick wall. Sitting in the quiet of

the garden, taking in through the senses,

breathing out a sigh of relief.

Just because the Director says: “Action!”

it doesn’t mean you have to do anything.

My Blank Pages

What does a poet write?

(                   lots of words.                    )

What does the reader read?

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah, The End.”

…except for the occasional 

mind mine

that explodes 

into a new knowledge of reality.

It’s worth it.

It’s Today Again

Who do we have to thank?

Who do we have to blame?

I’m my own Boss.

I don’t boss myself around…

…I used to… how do you think

I lived this long?

I had to play by some rules.

Others I could avoid.

So, today again, always something 

seemingly new, disguised sameness,

but I’m old and keep forgetting, so

I can’t complain because I can’t remember.

I wish the same joy for you.

Sorry, everybody’s not a winner…we all

have a finish line thanks for playing.

Participation trophies are so degrading.

Bruce Jenner was the greatest athlete 

in the world.

The best he could come up with after that

was to change his sex. Let that sink in.

It took some balls to do that.

I find the whole thing indicative of the

human predicament.

It all boils down to: “What to do?”

…the basis for all human comedy, drama

and stupidity.

Have I left anything out?

Only the dogs: it’s today again for them too.