Dad would say “you swing like a rusty gate!” as some form of coaching. You would have to be party to the act to understand. In terms of that, my own father does not like it why I overanalyze. More to the point, he does not want to know about it, otherwise it matters not a bit to him. He says I can think of anything I want, just stop saying those things that are “only your opinion, Galen. Other people don’t necessarily think the way you do.” These are the sorts of pearls (doubt) that he always has fed me the most of, since he tends to generate oodles of them himself.
This is probably why men (most of them) would never make any sort of decent “expert” on what the gate to “heaven” might really be. And for any guy to claim to be “the gate” is really rather richly funny. The guy would deck me if I called him a vagina. I just know he would. Oh well. Guys are dumb.
They don’t even know how to find two sticks when they already have one. How dumb is that? I’d say dumber than cat-shit. And you know how easy that is to find!!! (Well, I do anyhow!)
Here’s my “possibly final words” from someone — whom, I do not know — but she can speak for me in my church any time, since she has allowed a dirty old man (moi) to approve first. Thus, this must be porn, folks. Suck up to Satan if that’s what this suggests to you. It does not, to me, sound like anything more than knowledge of the infinite, as far as that might be possible. She mentions how Eva becomes Ave, and so much more.
Listen, if your “disorder” will let you.
My habit not only allows me to listen to such drivel as this, but it requires it. And — to my amazement only since only I know it is true — it has been this way since before anyone told me I had to listen to that which is outside of myself, and consider it as my future, possibly immediately.
Have a very happy birth of what’s-his-name time, everyone. Twelve days or sumpin’…