Guten Luvin'

 I read Upgrade, by Blake Crouch.   I’m reading Dave Eggers (Heroes of the Frontier).  And The Economist.  I walked Kaleb.   No poop.  I slept in, and arrived later.  So he already pooped.  HOS tonight 10p to midnite.  Blog traffic is fun to monitor, over a thousand daily, for like a week now.  I just had a cherry coke.   I have to lose weight !!  My bike is back.   But my printer doesn’t work.  I want to schedule another trip to Portland.  I did 200 pushups yesterday.   Haven’t stretched in awhile.  Or yoga.  Start my day at 2:20p.   VORG.   Vitamins, oatmeal, ryze, gundry.  Ab zap.  Flash briefing.   Wikipedia.  Email.  The usual.   Went to Trader Joe’s yesterday, so my food supply is good.  Trivia always beckons, and my piles of books.  Maybe I should donate all my books to the library.  The library is like community property.  The whole city’s living room.  Utopian and heavenly.  Librarians are angels.  

If I had Godly powers: Omniscience.  I don’t know what I would do with omniscience.  But that would be first.  Perspective for using my powers.   Immortality and teleportation and drugs, if not love, I would think would be 2-4.  God is love.  Why aren’t I pursuing love?  I must be like the biggest hypocrite, ever.   Then again, the Pope is single.  What does he know that I don’t? 

Okay.   Let’s assume I’m not an idiot.  I would make myself perfect.  And immortal/non-aging and happy.  And rich.  Say I was the only person who could teleport?  I would kill a bunch of people, I think. I really do hate a bunch of folks.  Or maybe I would disappear them, and throw them in my own private prison.  Be a dungeon master.  Make society a zillion times better.  Freeze time and learn everything.   Master martial arts.  Of course, I could always freeze time, which takes all the urgency out of it.  No nukes.  No poverty.  No war.  No diseases.  Heal everybody.  Or maybe with omniscience I would want to kill everybody, and therefore allow time to kill everyone, and in fact end up not changing anything, in an act of sublime mercy.  

God is love.  God is good.  Good lovin’ believes all things: okay, do you believe in heaven?  No, I don’t.  Heaven would be hell.  Because of boredom.   War would break out.  Everyone would read all the books, and eat at all the restaurants, and then decide to have a little fun killing each other.  Maybe people would just pop up again, like a video game, so it wouldn’t matter.  Whatever.   A world without suffering would be without birth, as we know it.  Without risk might take some fun out of the lives of adrenaline junkies.  But if life is worthless, then all things are possible.  Theoretical theology.  Theo the theologian says, heaven is a theory.  If I was in love, I would want it to last forever.  So maybe I would go crazy, and believe that stupid nonsense.  How depressing.   I don’t think anyone will ever live forever.  And that’s a mighty long time.  

Even God is a mortal.  Everyone dies, from the littlest to the biggest.  That’s what I believe.  But I’d love to live a few billion years.   Who knows what’s possible.  

crime-slime rhyme time

Love of vole evolution, Hatred of red hats

Happy hippies and sad sadhus

Sexy Lexi and Disgusting Gus

Present pleasant pheasant and past pastiche of pasta?!?

Ongoing bongoing, dumb drums, and street beats

Stupid cupid and brilliant millions

Minions who eat onions, venomous enemies

Rotten cotton, and slaves in caves

Dave, my fave knave, gave me his savior, Xavier

Catch a wave and go to a rave

Pray the gay away, and fuck a girl, Earl

go fuck a duck named Huck - yuck

Make love to a coven of doves? 

  Birds are for nerds.   Word.

Him n' slim women on a simmons

Rebels that throw pebbles

You need music?  Use Nick!

is Liz in prison?  is Gayle in jail?

there's a monster in the dumpster

Go CRAYzeeee

Dance to the beet.  Feel the fields.  The rhythm with ‘m.  Autumn got 'em.   In Seine in the membrain.   Loco for cocoa.  Crazy and lazy.   Nuts about my nut.   Helmut in a helmet.  Gonads,  nomads, and monads.  Fall fell.  Bought a hummer this Summer.  Got a splinter this winter.   Spring brings things.   It brought what I bought, and what I ought to have got.  Ozzy Osbourne and Yasujirô Ozu and Wizard of Oz and Ozempic.   My dad's black Model A Ford was called Ozzy, too.   Had a rumble seat.   The awooga horn was fun, too.  He sold it after a wheel came off (while he was driving it).  I remember riding around SF after the 49ers won the Super Bowl.  My friend Holly called her Subaru "Ruby Sue."    The food dude in a good mood. Buddha eats gouda, a dozen eggs for the 12 tribes of Judah... and Luda, you da man.   Ooh, barracuda!  Yore the best.  Pho Q.