Hope all you fine folks don’t mind ending up in your own muddy mess. It was fun trying to be one of you, and help those less fortunate than myself, like somebody said to me, you should help them, Galen. The shunning of me is almost complete. Very few remaining souls have not told me that my business is none of theirs, and vice versa. They nearly always regret that, but after *they* have burned all our bridges, they oughtn’t expect me to build another one just because their change of heart led to the clearing out of that manure silo capping their stiff necks, so that they finally see the sky is up there, for real. The sky was there all the time. That is what I was trying to tell them, but they all had more to say about IT, especially the ones in charge of IT, big time. Big, in charge types. Owners, Planners. BictOP folks, maybe? circus-circus!
The outside edge of the cosmos is not any further or nearer than the very smallest point within it, or any part of it, or you. The ideal point has no size. It is vanishingly small. The outside edge of the universe is vanishingly huge. It also has “no size” because we first would have to find it’s limits. That is how size is defined, or measured, by its limits. Neither smallness nor largeness have limits, unless we impose them with limits. But we are not the creator of this universe, unless we imagine ourselves as such. I, for one, do not. Atheists seem to think the universe is not really here. Or that is what the outcome of their arguments and mind-set is: nothing created this. It was just here because it had to be. Inevitable, is the reason, and the purpose. Yeah, but that ignores the Creator, which is perfectly permissible, and unfounded.
He was invisible, but you are not. I do not believe in you. I believe in Him. You can believe in yourself all you want to and see what good it gets you. You could be just like Adolf Hitler, who lacked no confidence that we could see. You want me to play you some of his words? He’s on the web now, like some monster that will never die until the world itself self-corrects by global sterilization, which is underway now.
The musical accompaniment today is, for the 2nd time in one row, being ‘featured’ by underplaying it on page dos(two)zwei now. For the ‘flavor’ of being me, consider letting everyone else have fun and then letting them tell you that you ruined everything by not participating. Or what it is like to be oriented toward small groups when the world always loves a crowd. Or trying to learn, to get the right answer, and then being told that it is only my opinion that gravity is invisible. Or that God is right there, in the gravitational force of attraction. If He isn’t then how come it actually works, in ways we cannot yet explain?
Please, all you good Christians, and non-Christians alike, remember this: God does not help those who can help themselves. So, help yourselves now, to NONE of me. I have nothing for this world that is of any value. This world has no value, other than its own value of itself. What kind of humility is that? None, not even any nun would see it that way. Proudly hopeless, terra firma melt. Tuna smell? Tuna piano!
Our school big-shot success story was this jock-minded scholar (cough) who we called Big Dick. Sometimes, Big Brown Dick. Depended on how we felt. We were just schoolboys, but he was the wisdom to guide us with, stiffly. When I was a freshman, he was called into the ‘classroom’ to teach us all a lesson about disobeying the substitute teacher (Milt Harris) who the toughies (Mike, Scott, Ron, and the junior-senior TA boys Chuck, Don, Dwight, etc., all of them completely fair-minded individuals) who ran the really pecking order (do you want your face bashed in, wimp?) had been hazing up one instructional side and down the other. WE ALL GOT PUNISHED because the bullies thought they were comedians. That is because the silent majority was actually not silent, we were laughing at the stupid clowns. That was until Mr. Brown decided to run our asses off on the football field, wind sprints up and down the field for at least 10 minutes with no rest (except if you collapsed like I did, and could not get up before Big SH*TF*CKHEAD Dick Brown-nose came stomping over toward you to tell you how much extra faith you were going to have to prove to his GODLESS self. Go to HELL Richard R. Brown, and take your wonderful performing FARTS center with you. DICK DICK DICK DICK DICK!! (NOTE: I don’t really mean any of this, but it sounds effective enough, by golly.)
Go fornicate yourselves, people. At the same time, please fill up your undergarments with yourself and your amazing brown creations, which you have permission to eat to your heart’s discontent and yearning endlessly, day-ear by day-ear, fortune eggs on your fudge-faces for your feasting on feces for GAWD’s aches, by gosh. By golly. By Dolly-Dolly-Wood-Wood-Wood! Never stop until you get enough. Never. Exactly. Never is when we stop. Never, soon!
This is still page two, but it is not the top, and page two includes page one, doesn’t it?