Monthly Archives: October 2016

I take offense away, and you don’t even understand me

Hey, I said come see me!
\And what are you doing?
\Hanging out in front of my house?
\Talking to the homeless always camped out on my lawn
\as if they were me,
\calling me a raving lunatic!







*8* odd that in the blogroll, there should be a post right next to this that I wrote back in Feb that looks just like it *8*





shoutout to mr. motorbike

Kid’s Birdhouse Day at Home Despot

saint home depotsaint home depot

“Hold still!”*


Any second now. So I – -don’t you love it when it’s Kid’s Birdhouse Day at Home Despot? (I am pretty sure I said Home Despot at this point in the video, as well as later, and someone edited it out.) Going to Home Despot and there are several hundred hammers going as hard as they can at once. You don’t notice it at first, but part of you slowly starts to wonder if the building is being attacked by birds. Then you realize it’s that day again. It is about the cutest thing.

I don’t think I would have liked Home Despot Birdhouse Day when I was a kid. I wasn’t very good at building things. It’s frustrating, to be in a group of your peers, some of whom appear younger than you even, and find yourself less capable than them at building stuff because you’ve never done it before. For all you know this is their fourth or fifth Home Despot Birdhouse Day. They might have the full collection at home: the Make-Your-Own Toolbox, the Make-Your-Own Racecar, the Make-Your-Own Home-Despot-Birdhouse-Day-Certificate Frame. So that always stinks, if that happens.

They should give you two. They should give you one to practice. They should give you another one. Once you know what you are doing, you can do a second one.


I was thinking about something last night — this isn’t related to anything; I know I was going to think about whether I was going to talk about something, and I will — isn’t that fun, the kind of decisions that we need to make anymore: ‘Let me decide if I need to decide about this.’ That’s called wisdom, I believe: being a couple of steps away from the problem, so you can see it coming! And hopefully avoid it.

Someone many cars behind me honks.


I was thinking last night — wow. The eye doctor put something in my eyes to color them, and it’s coming out my nose now. It’s like bright yellow dye, that’s coming out of my nose. Is there any filter in between there any more at all? The space behind my eyes and my nose?


So, ok, last night I was thinking about the Bible, and I was thinking about thinking that the Bible is true. You can say, “Well, is the Bible true?” And I can say, “Well, I haven’t found any parts that aren’t true yet.” And you can say “Well, what about all that stuff about, like, gay people?” And I can say, “Well, geez man, I don’t even really like to think about what other people do in their beds, do you know what I mean? I don’t want to know … I mean, it doesn’t seem like it’s any of my business? I mean, let’s not talk about it! Unless you have a problem or something?! Then we can try to work something out. Geez.”


And you can say, “Well, don’t you know people who are gay?” and I can say, like, “Well. I — Pfft. Pfft . Hunh. Ehh. Uhh. Ah. Umm. Ehh. Eeyar. I mean. I don’t know that they are? I mean. Umm. That seems very personal.” And you can say, “Well, do you think it’s right, for people to say, that because of what it says in the Bible, that people who are gay are bad; because it says in the Bible that they should be punished? Right?” And I can say, “Well, I never thought to have an opinion about it. Because it’s none of my business.”**

And you can say, “Well, don’t you think that’s wrong, that a lot of churches, they tell gay people when they come into the church that they are condemned, because they are gay? Because it says that in there? So you have this whole group of people who can’t go to church because they are condemned?” And I can say, “Well, I seriously have no opinion on it. It’s not like if some guy in church has a wife, we’re not going to pull him up in church for having slept with her before they got married, are we? Because it’s none of our business? Do you think it’s wrong if he slept with her before he got married? Because Paul has a lot of stuff to say about that too. But nobody does that, right? How weird would that be?” And you can say, “Well-” and then I can say, “So I’m saying I don’t have any opinion on it. I said that. Does it look like I left my judges’ robes at the cleaner’s or something, because I didn’t?” And I would say, “If you are doing something, it’s because you don’t think it’s wrong, and that ought to be good enough for you? It’s good enough for me.”

And then I can say, “Seriously, someone has probably already thought of this, but can you imagine if women who performed oral sex on men, as a class, decided to all dress differently from women who didn’t perform oral sex on men? Oral sex is fornication. It’s forbidden — by Paul. But can you imagine if there was an entire culture that came along with being a woman that performed oral sex of men, or better yet, and man who performed oral sex on women, so that if you do that, then you need to wear an earring? So we can all know that that is what you do?”


I  just passed the world’s happiest deer. Oh my gosh.


And then I can ask, “Should we do that? Say things like ‘Yup, I’ve decided: I’m a guy that goes down. I’m coming out. I’m mostly going to hang out with other guys that go down, because they understand me better, and we need to stick up for each other. We have going-down-guy pride.”

Your turn.

Photo credit: this dude’s pinterest

*These images are identical, in case anyone forgot what that looks like.

**And reassure myself that the reason we’re prolongedly talking about penises and things is totally your fault.

Expensive Dinner

can you afford these

Been a while?

I picked up this magazine, just by accident.  It had this picture of Asian people, with sewing machines, and the headline said “The True Cost.” I guess they meant the true cost of inexpensive goods, but I don’t know.

Really I should be outraged with myself, for buying inexpensive foreign-produced goods. Wait, no I shouldn’t. Did I hire someone for less than the minimum wage? Am I in charge of running Wal-mart?

I’m not, right? I’m not in charge of running Wal-mart? Let me check.

No. And they don’t like it when you try that.

Anyway, any of these places, it’s not up to me who they hire and how much they pay them. And really, you want to suggest to me that I shouldn’t shop there, and I should pay more money? Because really, what is up to me is taking care of my family.

People who say– if you take responsibility — the phrase take responsibility is very apt. If you take responsibility on for something, you take it from someone else. So if there’s, if the idea is out there that consumers are obligated to consider the source of the goods in the store when they make their buying decisions, then the people who run the stores, they can say, “Well, people don’t seem to mind if I get this cheap stuff from China. It’s what they want. It’s not my problem: if they didn’t like where I got it, they wouldn’t buy it.”

But we can say, “No, we have actually little to no idea what you are doing, since knowing what you are doing is not in any way our job, or even a thing we could do, without getting asked to leave the store, yet again.” Look at the supply chain, and find where someone’s doing something nasty. It’s not at the bottom. You’re going to tell me that I’m supposed to spend money, morally educating the CEO of Wal-mart?

That’s money taken away from the people who earned it. So then we have two bad things.

expensive dinner

“We can’t afford this salad at all, can we.” “No, but we must!”

“You can’t buy the cheapest stuff,” they say. “You have to buy the right stuff. It’s just, and fair.” Trade.*

Well, no, I’d like to keep that money, thank you. It’s not up to me, how Wal-Mart is run. That’s up to Wal-Mart, and the government.



Photo credits:

1 –

2- self-citing !




*You can do it! You can NOT make that “not a fair-trade of responsibility” joke! I am rooting for you!

Diagnosis Inferiority Contest



Mother: So you say John was hit by one of the children today?

Daycare Worker: Several of them actually! They were after him all day!

Mother: What? Why didn’t you put a stop to this?

Daycare Worker: Leaning into adversity is an important part of John’s development. He learned a lot today.

Mother: OMG, he has a bruise on his face!

Daycare Worker: Yes, they knocked him down on the playground. It really was something to behold. Maybe one of the other children will get a chance tomorrow.

Mother: Why are you acting like his being abused is good thing? OMG, he has a bruise on his face!

Daycare Worker: You know this is a Christian daycare, right?


The most important part of memory is the part that recalls, when a struggle is over, what or those who helped the body, wrapped around said memory, through it. To relive mentally the depth of appreciation one felt in that low place, from a high one, is even more satisfying than plugging the two ends of an extension cord together, when the construction project is done.

How solid it makes us, needlessly afterwards to maintain the ‘platitudes’ that got us through a crisis; rigidly forever to adhere to the disciplines that cured our ailments; secretly to lavish on the people that comforted us the same desperate devotion we felt for them when in pain!

There are so many mechanisms in life for growth; overeating and listening being perhaps the two most obvious and comfortable; some, like suffering, we wish were less effective, in hopes they would be employed less.

Often I have questioned the widely held tenet–as I like to try to do all things I hear so often repeated, as if they needed repeating, as if there were still people alive who didn’t yet blindly believe them–that suffering is a lesson, and perhaps the most important way that we grow.

While I can’t and wouldn’t want to dispute that strength of character develops in the one subjected to deprivation, pain, and loss, perhaps even in measure to its severity, I can certainly state that I see no reason that it needs to.

Let’s at this point make up a word, for necessary distinctions such as this. We’ll call them triversions.

To me this triversion then captures well the power and near-perfection of the mind, being another of its incalculable balancing acts, one that dictates we never seek out suffering, for ourselves or others, nor ever waste it when it is forced upon us.

And of course we would not want to be greedy, in maintaining this balance; to aim for too much tolerance, or pain, or sainthood; to instead self-sacrificingly say, “No, I am good enough, and you are going to jail now.”

And so this post has just defined Justice.

Although its point was to exult in this next bit:

Carryig some crutches on our backs on a wobbly walk through the woods, complete with optional rock scramble; leaning our healthy heads again on the shoulder of the nurse; turning down the cheesecake, after our cholesterol again is normal: these things, happening later, develop the character much more than months of being lame, and in a better way.

And effectively so we demonstrate suffering’s shortcut, intelligence. “Look, universe, I’ve heard it already. And I’m keeping it. You need not say again.”  And effectively too we thus demonstrate a more correct interpretation of suffering than the wise and so, not cruel parent;  we cease looking up to it; we show it instead to be simply yet another type of information that we can choose incorporate into our thinking or not, one readily it can be supplanted by other types; we show how little we relish it, and need it not it all.

And so the second most important part of memory then, is for the face of the dog that bit us, the pattern of the poisonous snake, the license plate of the truck that ran us off the road, and all the hallmarks of the situation about to go pear-shaped, and how we avoided this last time.


Can anyone explain to . . . anyone, I guess, why preachers seem to love so much saying the words “smash” and “nail” and “whip” and “beat”?

Crush me God . . . Crush me God . . . Smash my life . . . Under Your Bootheel . . .This is good . . . I don’t know why . . . But still I’m sure. . .

Or if the magical powers of sacrifice, which did not work when pagans killed lambs, would have worked as well if a perfect-God-as-human-who-should-be-beyond-death passed away quietly, at age 80, maybe while relaxing and soaking his feet in warm water, with 17,155 more days of sharing amazing lessons of love and inspiration behind him, as they would if he was executed at age 33?

Seriously, where is the textbook on sacrificial power? I’m reasonably intelligent. I could get a lot done with it. Just minor stuff, like killing ants so the Broncos could win the Super Bowl. Or did it really work just the one time?




Shoutout to any church speaker who manages to add “try to stop it” to his /her next sermon on adversity and suffering.


Working on Symmetry

self portrait is actually a good album people just don't know

I’m here to warn you; the following is like a book chapter; just scroll past it if you aren’t in the mood for nice conversational and insightful prose at length.

Not you, sir. Maybe. Somebody. Somewhere. Did you make a long trip?
(Did you make the wrong trip? )
Gonna find you.
(Or you could just go home.)
Or you could just sit there and sulk, that fine. Just sulk.


Did you ever reach that point, with, like, a kid, where they go in the corner and pout, and you’re like, Ok, that’s progress? Works for me, right now. Just sit there and pout.


Because at least you’re not screaming, when you’re pouting. Pouting is progress.


Here’s an interesting thing to observe: I don’t know if this has ever happened to you. You’re going about your business, routine, ok, normal day–and then you get the feeling that someone is praying hard for you? Ever had that feeling? It’s funny, because you’d think you’d think, oh, that’s nice, but no–while it is nice, the first emotional reaction you have is uhooh, what do they know that I don’t?

Usually something, too, that’s the thing. You think, I don’t know what it is you’re worried about, but thank you!

Then somewhere in the course of your day you find out and you’re like uhOOH, ok. As a piano falls two feet from your head, you know.


Uh uh uh! Go back to pouting!




Did you ever wish that now that you’re adult, that you could go back and be a kid again, and torture your parents even more? Think of all the things you know to do now, that you didn’t know when you were a kid. Especially if your parents now sometimes get on your nerves.

My mother is kind of like an expert in aggravating. I don’t know where you get that degree, but she has her PhD in Aggravation.. She’s a leading scholar in the field. And I feel like I let some opportunities go that I shouldn’t have, when I was younger.


You know, like when you are kid, you find one word and you like it. Sometimes it’s something you made up. I’m trying to think–I’m sure I must have had a day or two, where I was enamored of a word. You like a word, you say it, to hear how it sounds. You say it a couple times to see if it changes as you say it. Say it a couple more times to see if that makes any difference to anything, you know. And then you might just decide that you like saying, and so you’ll say it a few more times just because you enjoy it. And then you might not see any reason to stop saying it, so you might just keep saying it at that point.


And after awhile, you might want to see how other things fit in with saying it, so if you sort of stomp your feet or jump a little bit, as you are saying the word, how does that work? Is that more fun? Probably. You can jump and say it, say it and jump, see if you can say it while you are in the air; jump harder, say it a little louder; see if you can wait until you land and see if you can make it come out of your mouth with the air that comes up out of your body as you hit the ground. Practice that for awhile, then say it a few more times, as a break, while you rest. Then pick back up with the jumping.

And then at some point you might get the idea–this is what happened to me a lot as a kid–but after twenty minutes of this or so, you might get the idea that probably other people would like to know about this word. You really shouldn’t keep it a secret. That it’s so much fun it should be shared. That it really would make other people happy to know about it, and that the other people in the room with your might want to know about it too.

They might be busy, trying to do their taxes, or trying to watch a television program, or talk on the phone with someone important. But when they are available, it would probably be a good idea to let them know about this word, and how much fun it is, and maybe demonstrate a few of the ways you can say it.


Part of being aggravating, it turns out–I don’t know why my mom decided that she needed this degree, but one of the things that she learned when she got it was how to come up with a good reaction to just about anything very quickly. Because when you are aggravating people, I guess, now and then they are going to try to aggravate you back, and you have to be able to immediately squelch that: because that’s not their job, it’s yours.

So I don’t think I’ve seen my mom annoyed in about thirty years. I think she might have been working on her degree when i was young. But once she got it: seriously, you just can annoy the woman.So, if she was over there on the phone with her boss, I would practice my word a few more times, hop around with it a little, and then sortof hop my way over to where she was, and say Hey, look at this!


The stuff I had to show my mom when I was a kid was like, Look, if I put my hand on my other hand, they fit together.

See? Look what I can do! I can put my hand on my other hand. They match.


And my mom has this teacher voice: she would look at me, and you could see things filtering through her mind really quickly, and she’d put on her teacher voice and say, Well, why don’t we draw pictures of our hands?


And always I would say No way! Anything she came up with in the teacher voice, I knew, as soon as I heard the first word in the teacher voice, that I was going to say no. There was just no other way to go. Any sort of educational suggestion was dead from conception. I don’t want to draw pictures of my hands. I’m just showing you that they fit together. Because drawing pictures of your hands is hard too, you know?

And then she would try again. No, look, you can put your hand on this paper and we can trace it and

I would say No, I’m not doing that. You’re missing the point.


And at that point I would start to get disappointed with her. I didn’t know why she couldn’t understand this. But I also knew I had only so many tries to make her understand. And already I’d  used up two. So I only really had one more chance to explain to her what I was trying to explain. So I would say, Look, your hand and my hand do NOT fit together.

At which point she would pause, and then say, No, I have the same five fingers that you do. And I’d think God, this lady does not get it!


Look, if I had two left hands, I could put them on TOP of each other and they would fit, I’d say. But you don’t, she’d say. Unless maybe you drew them. And then I was done, my time was up. She wasn’t going to get it. And the way that this would be communicated to me would be, Well, why don’t you put your hands on a chair and then sit on them? Which was not exactly an empty threat, but close to one? The severest punishment of my childhood being that I would have to sit on a chair, and I don’t think I actually ever did sit on a chair. I was just told that I was going to have to sit on a chair. The chair part was important. You couldn’t sit on the couch; couldn’t sit on the floor. Had to be a chair.

And so at that point it’s expedient to remove yourself from view, you know, sortof go around the corner. My house, the house I grew up in, was built with as few walls a possible. So the bedrooms and the bathrooms were enclosed, they had four walls, but the rest of the house was open so you could see everywhere. So removing myself from view sometimes meant going all the way back into the hallway, where luckily there was a big mirror, and I could practice jumping, saying my word, and fitting different parts of my body together.


Which is harder than you think. A lot of times I wished I had an assistant. Because, for example, your ear, does not want to go anywhere near your other ear, no matter how hard you try. And then you try your shoulders, which will get close to each other, you can line your knees and legs up, you can sit down and put your feet together, that works. But I ran through my extremities pretty quickly, and had to start working on things on my trunk. How many ribs are over here? Do they match the ribs over there? And somehow, while on the phone, I don’t know how this was done–

Put your shirt down!


Sheesh, I didn’t know she could even see me. It’s really not fair, because there is no time for me to explain to her what I am trying to do here. If she understood, she wouldn’t mind.


Then I started looking for anything you could fold the other way. How come everything on left matched everything on the right? Shouldn’t there be things on the front that match things on the back? It’s really arbitrary! Why not things that match diagonally? You know there is actually a chemical reason for all this, I found out later. I remember though at the time, I thought the whole set-up was dumb. This is some kind of paper doll junk, I thought. And also: This could be a lot more interesting. But I also thought, Maybe I just don’t know. Maybe I just haven’t found the parts that fit  together diagonally yet: maybe they’re inside. You do a quick mental check of other species that you know: no, it’s all like that, isn’t it. Match match match. I’m going outside! More work to do outside.

The problem is, though, when you go outside, you want to do some work outside, you have to decide where outside you want to do some work. And really, although your options are many, they are also constrained, because you only want to go outside to one of the places that is at the farthest reach of where you are allowed to go. So anywhere that is in sight of the house, if you can go farther, is not good enough. So I had a good twenty-minute walk ahead of me, before I was going to get back to this project.

And then you have to think, do I want to take anything with me? Because you don’t ever want to leave the house without a book, just in case. And you need a bag to put the book in, and then you need something to sit on, in case you want to sit down and read. I remember I had a bag that was big enough to sit on, once you took the book out, and I thought that was pretty great. Since I was already supposed to be outside and I didn’t want to answer any questions, I would sneak in through another door, equip myself, and then sneak back out — I’m sure all of this went totally unnoticed.

And then I had to decide how I was going to go: how was I going to get to one of these places that was at the farthest reach of where I wanted to go. This one you have to climb a hill; that one I haven’t taken in a while; that one I took yesterday and it was good. I’d think, what if, I started out in this middle route, and then went off-road, straight up this hill, and then took the high road, and then cut back down? Plus you get to see all the rocks and stuff that are on that hill when you are going straight up. You think, I don’t know, this is a little dangerous; I don’t usually climb this hill, the dirt is moving under my feet, but no, I can totally do this, right to the top.

Make it up the hill, make it down the other way, and just kind of check out, walk past really, some other things you’ve been doing outside, thinking, No, I’m not really into that today. Probably I’ll never be into that again, actually. And then circle around here, go around there, get to this point beyond which you are not supposed to go, and think, alright, what did I come out here to do? It’s so nice out here. And just then you hear

Where are you?! I can’t see you!

I’m coming.

(Or you could try: I’m back here! (Leave me alone.) Never works though.)


I can’t see you! Get up by the house!

I said I’m coming. And I’m fine though. Start your twenty-minute hike back towards the house. That was fun.


I usually used my twenty-minute hike to work on my speech, my arguments, for why I should be allowed to go back out wherever I was. I’d have a four-point thesis, explaining exactly where I had been, that it was allowed before, that it was plenty light out–for some reason, what I was doing never figured into these arguments at all.

Sometimes I’d stop and pick flowers on my way back to the house. And look, I brought you these flowers! Why don’t I go back outside.

Aw, aren’t those nice. And she’d stick them in a little cup on the windowsill. And I’d feel like a dork, because they were weeds I found on the lawn, that I didn’t think deserved to be in a cup like that; they didn’t even stand up straight.

Usually I was allowed to go back out. It was just the initial needing to locate me, that had to be done.


Several hours later, you come in, just filthy. I like to picture it like a nice gradual scale, darkest of the bottom, and sortof lightening as you go up. Come into the house because you’re hungry. See what’s in the fridge. Nothing is in the fridge. And then go back to the real project of the day, your new word. You’re hopping your way towards the bathroom, and then on each jump, just try it out, see if it is as good as it was earlier: Weenie! Weenie! Weenie! Weenie!


Photo credits:

This guy’s tumblr

This lady I just like, what can I say.

Don the Gloves of Logic and See If You Can Pick Up Christianity – Part 3

Don the Gloves of Logic and See If You Can Pick Up Christianity – Part 3

Do I Love You Enough?

“When I was young, I think I might have told you this before, Pat, when I was young, I really tried really hard to be a good part of a good church. I explained this to a woman at at a church service that I performed at, I guess you might call it: she wanted to talk to me afterwards. She asked me, you know, what’s the deal, what are you doing. And this is what I told her. That when I was young, I went to church and I tried real hard, I wanted to do what they were telling me to do. I was a good student; in school I did everything they told me to do and I got the A, and I went to church and I wanted to do the same thing. I wanted to get the A. And it was impossible. I was a bright kid, but it took me two or three years to figure this out, that it was impossible.

“And what really showed me, you know you go to church as a kid whose parents don’t go to church and you feel like an outsider; I went to a lot of different churches as a kid for a lot of different reasons. And you imagine everyone sitting around you, that they’re the insiders and you’re the outsider. And what really got to me, what made me realize this–I guess I was five years into my Christian quest, right? At age 14. (laughter) And what was funny, what I realized, that the other people sitting around me, they were there last week, they were there the week before that. They were members of the church. They were not five years into their Christian quest; they were thirty-five years into their Christian quest. Thirty-five years or more. They had had the time to have done all the things that the preachers told them to do, they had had time to do all their homework. And here they were sitting with me, listening to the same thing I was listening to, to this guy at the front of the room telling them that they weren’t getting an A. That they weren’t good enough. That they had to try harder. In general. That they had to do more, that they had to give more, that they had to think more–nope, not that last one so much. But more was needed before they could consider themselves good, not even A, material. And that blew my mind. And I left the church, in a sense. I mean I still went to church, but not much.

“I had gotten to know some of these people, and I knew how they lived their lives, and I had such an unbelievable respect for them that it hurt me, to sortof watch their faces as they were told — again — that they were vile sinners. In need of Christ’s grace so much that they were worthless without it. It made no sense.

“But the point I wanted to make here was that even back then, and this is kind of cute, I used to take this catalog, I used to make a list, you know, ‘What are my sins?’ And I’d get the book out, and I used to get upset, you know, that there wasn’t a longer list of rules. Because my sins were always not very interesting or any.

“So my list was usually ‘lying’ or ‘none.’ But I tried to make my list longer: I looked for things, like not cleaning my room enough, things like that. But there was nothing about that, so I couldn’t get away with it.

“It’s actually really fun to eliminate lying from your life, Pat, you know this, once you figure out how to do it. It takes bravery. All you have to do is confess to people what you really don’t want to say. I tried to teach little kids this idea, of a ‘really good truth.’ One would say ‘I broke, I stole your jewelry,’ and I’d be like, ‘Way to not lie.’ Which, she, she loved that, I don’t know. She might have. She’s a complicated girl. Anyway, listeners, if you do that enough times, let’s say if you do four big not-lies, it’s easy not to lie going forward from there.

“But I would look at this list and be like, ‘Yeah, I’m not having sex with anyone, so that cuts out a lot of this.’ What else was in there…I wasn’t going to kill anybody, I wasn’t going to steal anything, and then there was covet: my friend Wendy had a lot of board games, but I thought it was good that she had the board games. And a ping pong table. She had one of those, but I wanted her to have it.

“Pat, what I’m saying here, and I hope I didn’t get to personal, is that I don’t think most people sin very much. I’m really serious about people being good people. It’s not like I don’t care if they ‘sin.’ I care. I care a lot. I’m not one of those people who just doesn’t care if people do bad things or not.**

“I care though, I care a lot. But I just think in general that people don’t sin very much.”


Now if a guy cuts me off in traffic on purpose, he’s trying to hurt me. I don’t know what else would be a sin! But if you walk up to me on the street, a stranger, and I look you in the eyes and spit on the ground, do you think God cares? I don’t. Is my spit going to hurt you? Are you going to catch a cold? Is there a chance some of it might get on your shoe? Now it’s a little bit different if I take my 2 and a half tons of steel moving at sixty-five miles and hour and try to rub it up real close to yours, isn’t it.

I seriously hope this shows you what a different view of the world the physical view is, compared to the view that we may or may not have in our heads, which comes from our intentions. Your intentions are all yours. They physical world is the place we share; that’s where people get hurt or don’t. Car crashes hurt. Spit doesn’t.***

Unless you have AIDs.

Or hepatitis.

I used to volunteer at a prison a lot, and one time I came in and all the guards had hazmat suits on. “Come on in!” they said.

“Come on in?!” I said. “Why are you wearing a hazmat suit?”

They said, “Don’t worry about it. Come on in.”

“No, I think I need to know the answer to that one before I come on in,” I said.

“No,” they said. “So-and-so lady inmate got mad, and she was spitting at us, and we don’t know who has what, so we had to put the hazmat suits on.”

And I was like, “Where is so-and-so lady inmate now?”

“No, she’s in solitary confinement, so come on in.”

(just a note, don’t mind: 1:52:15,1:53, 1:53:20 – change the words)


1:53:50 – 1:54:10 lazy

1:59:45 – end that article – (2:00:00 – 2:00:01 Olivia Newton John)
**This class of people does not exist. See Where are the dumb.
***Jesus spit.


Graduate of 12 years of solid American public schooling typing this right now.


PS: I dictate this sh__. No edits.

It would make sense that something wouldn’t be wrong.



So here’s something: it’s that telepaths don’t make mistakes.

I’s funny, I never really thought about that that way until tonight, but they don’t. I’m thinking back over all the examples I have, and the actual telepaths are never wrong.

Now, some of them are crazy, and not just in the eccentric way. But this other group, these non-telepaths, is sort of always wrong. They can’t seem to come up with much that makes sense. They’re consistent, like you wouldn’t believe. But in a way that they don’t even see.

That’s interesting, isn’t it? I think that’s interesting, the never wrong part. I never thought about it that way. You see, I don’t know if I talked about it much — I think I mentioned it in an earlier recording — that the belief system is the closest to perfection, that I’ve found in a human being. The system itself. And there’s something I wrote out, a long time ago, about the infallibility of belief.*

The conclusion of it was — this is good, it has a nice structure — that human beings don’t actually make mistakes either. It was a bit of a proof of that. It was an attempt, you might say, you could put it as an attempt to prepare humanity for telepathy. Because I think it might be a necessary condition, this infallibility, for running around and mashing minds up against each other.


“What do you do with it?” “No idea, honey.”

Unless, of course, you all get real good at being real quiet. Saying nothing is perfect; no mistakes there.



Photo credits





Hey, you know that great teacher I had? She told me something important. She said — long time ago — two thousand…that same spring that I was bringing her up, the last time that I mentioned her — she said “All learning should be a game. The only way we should learn is through games.”

I think in my book, I’m going to definitely have to put that in there. That the right way to learn is through playing. Play.

play play play



Always, and in general — not in general, take that out! —


play, play play play play PLay, playPLay,

And always when you’re learning things be happy. Don’t learn when you’re sad. Wait until you are happy. Then learn.

why Why why especially, especially if you are trying to train your brain, right? Always be happy. When you’re trying to make that brain do something different. Because you are making new roads! Make them good ones.

Their scenery will remain the same; the next time you drive down it will be the same scene. So. Make them happy roads.




This is what I mean



You can test this, and imagine for yourself: feel the feel you feel when you remember something you learned in a game you loved. What if everything was like this?

Silly takes practice. These ladies clearly are man enough not to be afraid. But can they do it without these particular clothes, one wonders?

adult preschool

This is not what I mean*


I tell you, I’m the one to, I tell you, can you relearn? I tell you, can you learn it over, put the buildings on a new road? Can you relearn it all?










break the seal

photo credits

  1. I would say IKEA, but I’m just not sure that little purple bug was in the original. If not, radiation wonders very much where it came from. She didn’t add it.
  3. I don’t know, some crazy blogger lady



be happy always when you learn, be happy all the time

*ok, ok, it might be what I mean.