I wonder. What is it this time? Is it the weight? Will it be long? Maybe it’s the high jump? The deep end all over again and again. Who can tell what any of the sleight of hand signs might mean. Or if any of it means anything at all?

My guess? None of it means anything much, not really. They might look like omens or roads signs, but nope. It’s all just in my head.

The only problem is, whether it’s inside or outside, what’s the difference? Isn’t everything just something inside someone’s head? You know. The observer fundamentally altering that which is observed. Collapsing the duality. Defining the potential.

I mean, I know what’s definitely real, I’m not a fool. A long walk in the wrong part of town at the wrong time of day clears that philosophical crap up right quick.

It’s just that so much is up for debate. So much is shadowy and unclear.

I dunno. Maybe the owl can set me straight.

The only thing that’s really clear, is that the wise men and prophets and priests are just as clueless as me. They just don’t have the ovaries to admit it. Just balls and empty collection bowls and well scripted phony baloney.

Good stage design and set dressing too.


Clueless Deep Thinker Tinkerer


P.S. Does a few thousand years of misery and suffering and scrabbling around in the dark and the dirt have greater legitimacy than my forty seven years of stupidity? Simply because of time served?

Is it all just a question of man hours put into the puzzle? And what the hell did tradition ever do for me except screw me over?

I mean, It’s all just people making stuff up. Is the length of your habit all that counts? I just wish they would stop pretending and admit they don’t know.

Are they afraid of looking foolish? Don’t be afraid. I’ll go first.



No. Actually, this is all just bullflop. Self obsessed intellectually unstable grandiosity. Yep. Just a wheel barrow full of unbalanced nonsense.

Or is it?

Yep. Definitely manure.